Aftermath
by jane0904
Summary: Mal/Freya 'verse. Freya is healing, but only physically. Can Mal rescue her from the darkness threatening to overwhelm her after Wing's attack? Thank you for reading, and reviews are shiny. Last two chapters up now, but this isn't the end ...
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

_She was so excited. For once in her short life she was going somewhere different, somewhere away from home, on her own, and she was so looking forward to it. So young and yet prepared for anything the 'verse could throw at her._

"_Are you ready yet, dear?" Her mother looked around the door into the bedroom._

"_Nearly," she said, stuffing her nightdress into the case. "Just packing the last of my bits." She picked up a small teddy bear._

"_You can't take that, sweetheart!"_

_She grasped the bear to her chest. "Oh, momma, I have to! He's my bear – I can't leave him behind! What if I get homesick?"_

_Her mother came to stand next to the bed, idly picking up a small blouse and folding it carefully. "This is a special place you're going to. You won't have time to get homesick – there'll be so much to do."_

"_I know. But I want my things with me. I can take him, can't I?" She had a hold so tight on her toy that no-one was going to pry it from her fingers._

"_Oh, my dear." Her mother took her into her arms, hugging her close and stroking her long brown hair. "You're never going to grow up, are you?"_

"_I will, momma. Just not today." She smiled._

"_No, probably not." The older woman sighed. "All right, pack him away. Just don't let anyone else see him."_

"_I bet lots of students have their toys with them." The girl resumed packing – at least, resumed pushing things into her bag until it could hold no more. "I can't wait." She was happy and excited. "Is dad going to be home in time?" she asked, closing the case and locking it._

"_He's trying to make it, sweetheart. Don't be too sad if he can't," her mother warned._

"_I know he's busy." She sat down on the edge of her bed, the edge taken off her happiness. "I just thought … today … I don't know when I'll be back."_

"_They'll give you holidays. Of course they will," her mother assured her. "And you can write. I know your brother would be pleased if you did."_

"_He won't care," she scoffed, knowing he was too preoccupied to think of her._

"_Of course he does." Her mother shook her head. "He's your brother. He has to care." The girl looked at her mother, a look that perturbed her, made her take a mental step backwards. Her daughter was special, she knew that, but sometimes … She shook herself. "Come on," she said quickly. "Bring your bag down and we'll get something to eat before the carriage comes."_

"_Can we have cookies?" she asked, suddenly bright again, all her enthusiasm on her young face._

"_Cookies it is."_

_And they were such good cookies. Thick, with big chunks of chocolate in, that went satisfyingly soggy when dipped in the milk, but stayed together enough so that they didn't fall apart until they were in your mouth._

Freya could still taste them …

--

In the three weeks since Mal had ended Xavier Wing on Hera, life returned to something approaching normality. Everyone got used to Freya being in the infirmary, and all of the crew made a point of dropping in at various times during the day, although it was Jayne who sat with her most. She seemed to accept his company best, either listening to him talking about his life before Serenity, or just sitting in silence as he cleaned his guns or did a bit of wood carving. Simon became accustomed to finding shavings on the infirmary floor.

After the first week most of the restraints were removed, and after two Simon took away the frame, making Freya a little more comfortable. But only a little.

At night Mal slept in the bed they'd made on the counter. It became a ritual – he'd spend an hour with Ethan in the infirmary with Freya, holding him so she could talk to him, barely touch him, before taking him into Bethany's room. He'd put his son into the bed next to the little girl, who'd roll over and put her arm around him, protecting him. Then he'd join Freya and talk to her until she dozed off and he tried to get some sleep his own self.

Until the nightmares took her. Then he'd slip from his makeshift bunk and sit next to her, stroking her face, drying the sweat on her skin, feeling his heart break each time she moaned and shook.

Physically she was improving. No doubt about that. Simon had been very pleased with her progress, at least to her face. To Mal, on the other hand, he was a little more honest.

"She's going to have to go through a lot of physiotherapy, just to learn to walk properly again, without support." The young man watched his captain's face tighten as they sat alone in the galley one day after breakfast. "It's going to be hard work."

"Whatever it takes," Mal said.

"But the emotional damage … I don't know that will ever heal properly. What they did to her –"

"I know what they did, doc," Mal said quickly. He took a deep breath. "Wing shoulda shot me. Found me in a blind alley and slit my throat. Anything but done that to her."

"She's alive, Mal," Simon said. "Because of who she is. And she'll survive for the same reason. But the rest … if a whole person comes out of the end of this it will be because of you. Because of the way you love her."

"You saying she might not be whole?"

"She's been through an experience most people can't begin to imagine."

"Doc, there's been other experiences, some you don't even know about –"

"Not like this. Before there was a reason, some hope of escape, of stopping the pain. This time there was none."

"But she survived." He looked the young man directly in the eyes. "Once I told her that I was a stubborn son of a bitch who wouldn't lie down when he was killed. I kinda figure she's pretty much the same."

"I hope so, Mal. Because I think her nightmares are going to be much worse."

"How the hell can they be?" Mal didn't understand. "She dreams about what they did to her."

Simon leaned forward in his chair. "Listen to me. I know you think she's going to get better quickly. Which she would have, if we'd found … if we'd got to her sooner. Her bones are mostly knitted, but the nerves … And the damage to the ligaments, the tendons … they're what holds everything together, and they take a lot longer to heal. That's why she's going to have problems for a long time."

"I'll do whatever I have to."

"I know. We all will. But we have no idea what this has done to her mentally."

"She's strong."

"And if she wasn't she might be able to cope better. But that's all it's going to be – coping."

"I don't understand."

"She knows what's been done. And she thinks it's her fault."

"I know," Mal admitted, his voice barely a murmur. "I wish I could make her believe it ain't."

"If she wasn't so strong, then she'd accept help, let us do whatever it takes. But she won't. Not until it gets so bad she can't cope any more. And that may be too late."

Mal looked up, sudden comprehension making him pale. "You mean –"

"I'm not saying it will happen. But … there's a possibility she won't be able to deal with it, the aftermath, the nightmares."

"You're suggesting she might try to … end herself?" He could barely say the words, let alone think them.

"It's possible."

"No." Mal was angry at the young man for even daring to suggest it, at himself for not being able to help Freya better, at his wife for … "No, Simon. That ain't gonna happen. I found her again, and she's alive, and I ain't gonna let anything take her away from me."

"I understand. I'm just … advising caution."

"Your sis … can she keep an eye on her? Make sure she ain't thinking about … that?"

Simon nodded. "I've already spoken to her. But I think it best you speak to the rest of the crew, make sure they understand."

"You think they need to know?"

"What if she asked Jayne to borrow one of his guns? Just to see if she could fire it. Don't you think he'd give it to her, just because she's Freya?"

Mal couldn't stop it, the image flashing into his mind of his wife, his lover, lying on their bed, blood spread across the bulkhead … "I'll speak to them."

"Good." Simon stood up. "It's going to take time. And patience. And prayer."

"Prayer?"

"I know you did. River told me."

"Your sister should …" He stopped, mindful of how he'd just asked the doctor to get River to … "Maybe she's right. Maybe I did pray. And maybe I ain't stopped every day since then. But it ain't for me. Only for her."

"Whatever the reason, don't stop, Mal."

"For Freya? I don't intend to."


	2. Chapter 2

_There had been a lot of tests, most of them totally incomprehensible. It wasn't that they were difficult to understand, but just that they didn't seem to have anything to do with what they said. There were the usual IQ tests, which she knew she'd aced, but others, like picking a sequence of numbers that were then randomly generated from a machine, just to see if they matched up, seemed pointless. They wouldn't show her the results, but the two men seemed pleased. They'd smiled at her._

_Then they'd gone to speak to her parents._

_She was going to be a Companion. That had been her dream ever since she was old enough to know what a dream was. To dress in those fancy clothes, to meet glamorous people, to be feted and adored … She knew there was more to it, had seen something in her mother's eyes when she announced her desire that day at dinner, and it had made her blush, but for once her father nodded approvingly._

"_I think that would be eminently suitable," he'd said, his gravel voice rolling across the table. "A fine career for a Rostov."_

"_Ivan, I don't know," her mother had put in. "She's so young."_

"_Genia, she's old enough. And nothing will happen for a long time yet." He'd made up his mind, and once he'd done that, there was no changing it._

_Elena beamed, only wincing a little as Alex kicked her under the table._

_But then her school had introduced these new tests. Boring, easy and predictable was her opinion, and she told her friends exactly that. Even crowed a little when Alex did nowhere near as well as her. Then her mother had taken her into her study one day and explained that these tests showed she had aptitudes that the Alliance felt should be encouraged._

"_They want us to send you to a school," her mother explained. "It's special, with classes designed to make you work harder."_

_Elena had never minded hard work. _

_Her father didn't speak to her about it. If anything he ignored her even more than he had before._

--

"Inara's been keeping to her shuttle a lot in the last coupla weeks," Zoe said. "The only time she comes out is when we land."

"Her choice, I guess." Hank adjusted their heading slightly.

"She's thinking about her son."

The pilot glanced over his shoulder at her. "Natural."

"She's afraid Sheydra knew something else that she didn't tell."

Hank turned his chair to look at her. "Like where he is?"

Zoe nodded. "River was distracted, worrying about Freya, and Inara thinks she might have missed something."

"That's probably why she's been on the Cortex all hours of the day and night." Hank shrugged. "Think I should tell Mal?"

"It's her screen." Zoe stirred, as if made uncomfortable. "Just … keep an eye on it."

"Will do." He stood up and put his hands on her waist. "At least nothing else bad has happened. Maybe we're past the worst of it."

"I hope so," Zoe agreed fervently.

"You know, I still see it," he said slowly.

She didn't have to ask what. Freya wasn't the only one with the nightmares. "I know, honey. But it had to be done."

"Oh, I know. I just wish …"

"It hadn't been you to do it?"

"Something like that." He sighed, his forehead furrowed. "I know everyone thinks I'm a coward – hell, so do I most of the time. But these people, this crew, they're … I don't want to let them down."

"You didn't." She stroked his face. "Even Jayne was proud of you."

He almost smiled. "Not sure that's too much of an incentive to do it again." His face darkened. "But it still makes me feel …" He paused. "Was it like that the first time you killed someone?"

"I don't remember."

"I suppose there've been so many."

She let go and glared at him. "That wasn't what I meant."

"Zoe …" He was appalled at his tactlessness. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend that like it came out."

Her gaze softened. "Hank, I wasn't even seventeen. Barely older than River when she came on board. In the Alliance army. I don't remember what it was like because I can't be sure when it was. There were riots on Three Hills, over the crop mites that had wiped out that year's harvest, and …" She shook her head. "We did what we were told to do."

Hank couldn't believe what she was saying. "You fired into the crowd?"

"They were rushing us."

"What were they armed with, Zoe?" he asked, backing off from her. "Pitchforks, maybe?"

"I'm not proud of it, Hank," she said, her face expressionless.

"But I'm supposed to be proud of shooting a man dead in front of me?" He turned away from her and leaned on the back of the pilot's chair.

"No. You're supposed to feel sick to your stomach."

"Oh, I do that," he said, not looking at her.

"And I'm glad you do, because if you didn't you wouldn't be the man I fell in love with."

He lifted his head. "You do?"

"Don't I say it enough?"

He turned towards her. "Never enough."

"Maybe I don't. Only just got used to saying it again."

"I need to hear it, though. Right now, there's a part of me that needs to hear it so bad." He was almost begging.

"I love you, Hank. And I am ecstatic that you ain't a natural killer." She stepped closer to him and kissed him, her lips soft on his, feeling his at last release some of their tension.

"Zo, put him down. You don't know where he's been." Mal smiled tiredly from the doorway, trying to imitate his usual grumpy self.

"Oh, I think I have a fair idea, sir," his first mate said.

"You know, I don't think I want you to explain that any further." He looked from one to the other. "Can you both come to the dining area?" he asked. "There's something … I need to speak to you all."

"What about?" Hank asked, pushing his own anxiety back down.

"Just … only take a few minutes." His tone was so odd that they both watched him head back to the galley.

"Any idea what that's all about?"

"Only one way to find out."

Mal waited until they were all in the galley. All except for Inara. He glanced across at Simon and nodded slightly. "Thanks for all being here," he began awkwardly. "There's something I have to ask you all to do for me, and I ain't exactly sure how."

"Is it Freya?" Kaylee asked, reaching for and grasping Simon's hand.

"Yeah."

"Is she …" She couldn't go on, just alternated her gaze between her captain and her husband.

"She's getting better. Healing physically."

"Then what, Cap'n?"

"We … we all have to watch her. Keep an eye on her. Don't let her …" He sat down hard in his chair.

"Cap?" Now Kaylee was getting really worried, and from the looks on the rest of the crew, so were they.

"Simon, I don't …" Mal looked at the young man.

The doctor understood. "What Mal's trying to say is that Freya's in a very emotionally unstable frame of mind at the moment. As anyone would be who went through what she did. We have to make sure nothing happens that might disturb the delicate balance."

"Doc, can't you just talk straight?" Jayne asked, leaning back in his chair so it was balanced on the back legs.

"You have to lock up your guns," Mal said finally, his gaze dark.

There was silence until Zoe spoke quietly for them all. "You're talking about suicide."

Jayne's chair thudded to the ground. "_Qiang bao hou zi de hun dan_."

"I am."

"That's crazy!" Kaylee cried. "Frey ain't ever gonna do that. She's not the type!" She glared at her husband as if it was all his fault.

"Type has nothing to do with it," Simon said, trying to calm her down. "Freya's been through so much, she's finding it very hard to come to terms with it. Not just the injuries, but the total loss of control she experienced."

"Control is so important to her," River agreed, holding Jethro's hand tightly.

"Did you know?" Jethro asked, looking round at her. "About this?" She nodded. "For how long?"

"Since she woke up," the girl admitted. "I've been watching her." She glanced at her brother. "You didn't need to ask."

Simon gave a half-smile. "I thought perhaps you were."

"But it hurts."

Her brother nodded, understanding. "I know, _mei-mei_."

"'N' I'm grateful," Mal added.

Kaylee was still outraged. "You're saying she's gonna try and do away with herself?" She couldn't take it in.

"Not consciously, perhaps," Simon said, turning to her. "But we just have to make sure the temptation isn't there."

Zoe hadn't taken her eyes off her captain's face. "Are you gonna talk to Inara, sir?" she asked. "She's got weapons, too, that need to be put away. Things that could be used."

"Going there now." He stood up. "Just … be careful. We don't want to put … just be careful." He walked slowly out of the galley.

"You mean it, don't you?" Kaylee asked Simon in a low voice.

"I'm afraid so."

"But she wouldn't do that, not Freya."

"'N' we're gonna make sure it ain't ever her," Jayne said, getting to his feet and heading for his bunk. "Knew I should never've unpacked the girls," he muttered.

--

"The nightmares are so bad," Mal said softly, sitting on Inara's red sofa, a cup of mint tea in his hands, his fingers clasped around the fragile china as if he could warm his soul. "And Simon thinks they're going to get worse."

The ex-Companion sat down next to him, almost touching but not quite. "Freya's been through a lot."

"I want to help her, to take them away, make things better … make things right …" He looked into her eyes.

"I know you do. We all want to. But it's going to take time."

"Time …" His voice echoed hers sadly. "Ain't sure there's gonna be enough of that."

"Why?" Inara looked up sharply. "What did Simon say?"

"Not that. I don't mean … leastways physically, but he thinks … he feels …" He couldn't finish.

"That she might need professional help?"

Mal nodded, misery etched deeply into the lines on his face. "I couldn't stop them, 'Nara. I couldn't stop what they did to her, and it was 'cause of me. What I did. How I live my life." He slammed the bowl down onto the table, not caring if it broke or not.

"That isn't true." She put her hand on his leg. "Mal, you saved _my_ life."

He didn't seem to hear her. "I killed Atherton Wing, so they took the woman I love. Damn near killed her, and now she might …"

"Is Simon …" Inara took a deep breath before she could continue. "Is Simon afraid she's going to try to kill herself?"

"He's thinking that." He dropped his head so she couldn't see into his eyes, couldn't see the tears. "She can't even hold Ethan properly. And it cuts at me to see her watching him, and she can't nurse him, not even feed him because of the drugs Simon has her on." Something splashed onto the carpet beneath him. "It's killing _her_."

"You can hold him for her," Inara said gently.

Mal suddenly sat back, his head resting on the red satin. "I do. I hold him so she can touch him, cradle him, even, but … it ain't enough." His tears ran into his hair.

Inara wanted to clasp him to her, to give him what little comfort she could. No matter that she knew he wasn't hers, never could be, she wanted him to be happy, with every ounce of her soul. And this man was so far from that state that it made her angry. "What does Simon suggest?" she asked, feeling her body trembling slightly.

"Watching her." He sat up, wiping at his face with both hands. "River's doing that. Ain't letting her out of mind, but …" He looked back at her. "She can't get too close. She says it's too painful."

"And her guns? Yours?"

"Locked away, and she ain't gonna know where. Same with Jayne's, and the kitchen knives. And Simon's locking the drugs cupboard whenever he leaves the infirmary." Even considering that his wife might try to take her own life was almost too much for him. "At least she's still there, where he can keep an eye on her, but when she starts to walk …"

"When does Simon think that will be?"

"He doesn't know. Soon, I guess. He's talking about exercise …" He shook his head. "Can't keep her locked up, 'Nara. That won't help her."

"No. I don't see her taking too kindly to being told she can't do something."

"Me neither." Mal swallowed. "'Nara, if she took it into her head to do something … to …" He couldn't say it. "If she … there's ways. Even if it's crawling into the airlock and opening the door, there's ways." He was shaking, his whole body trembling like a leaf in a high wind. "I can't lose her, Inara. I can't. I thought I had, and it killed me. Then finding her, alive, even after what they'd done, I …" He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand. "But if she … if I can't take this burden from her … make her see it ain't her fault –"

"She thinks it's her fault?" Inara couldn't believe it. "How can she possibly consider that it's her fault? Mal, that's crazy."

"I guess maybe it is. But she keeps telling me she's sorry. For going to find Ethan by herself. For what they did." He couldn't believe it himself. "For what _they_ did." He was suddenly so incensed that he grabbed the tea bowl, hurling it across the room to shatter against the bulkhead. He turned a horrified face to her. "Inara, I'm sorry –"

She shook her head quickly, taking hold of his hands. "It doesn't matter. If you want to break them all, do it."


	3. Chapter 3

_Cookies and milk. Funny how they always tasted better in the kitchen, even though her mother had never baked in her life. And strange to think these would be the last ones she'd have for a while._

"_Do you think you could send me some?" Elena asked their cook, who smiled, drying her hands on her apron._

"_Don't see why not," she said. "You always did like my cookies better'n bought ones."_

_Elena grinned, wiping the ring of milk from around her mouth on the back of her hand._

"'_Lena, use a napkin," her mother scolded. "And Bridget is going to have far too much to do to think about sending you food parcels."_

"_But what if I get hungry?" Elena protested, her eyes wide. "What if I don't like the food?"_

"_Don't be silly. And cookies are not a food anyway. They're a snack." She looked down at the small expensive timepiece on her wrist. "And it's time to go."_

"_Oh." Elena jumped to her feet, cookies quickly forgotten in her renewed excitement, the crumbs falling to the floor. "I can't wait!"_

--

"Simon?" Kaylee was standing in the doorway to the infirmary, watching as her husband finished redressing Freya's left foot. One of the wounds had become infected, and although it was finally healing he was keeping a close eye on it.

He looked up. "Hey, sweetheart."

"Can I … can we talk?"

"Of course."

"In private."

"Oh. Fine." He looked at Freya. "Are you going to be okay?"

"Your wife needs you," she said, a small smile flittering across her lips. "Nice to be needed."

"I won't be long."

"Okay. Not going anywhere." Just sitting in the dark, she thought, watching the two of them walk out into the common area.

Simon kept glancing back over his shoulder at the woman laying on the medbed, her face still lined with pain.

"Is she okay?" Kaylee asked.

"I don't want to leave her too long."

"No, I understand. It's just …" She ground to a halt.

"What is it, _bao bei_?" he asked. "Is there a problem?"

"I don't know. Is there?" She lifted her face to look into his eyes.

"I don't …"

"Those tests. The ones at the hospital on Persephone. You ain't told me how they turned out."

"The …" Now he understood. "Kaylee, I don't know. I haven't … I've been a bit busy."

"I know. It's just …"

"You need to know."

"It's been so long, and I've tried to be patient, I really have, but I …" Kaylee twisted her hands. "I just wish …"

"It's okay," he assured her.

"I know you've got Frey to look after. I know that. But this is important too." She sniffed. "And don't think I don't feel guilty saying this."

He almost smiled. "It's all right. You have a right to know. But it's not as if I just haven't told you. I … the results are … they still need to be analysed."

She nodded. "See, it's just that every night I put Bethany to bed, now more than ever, I want to feel another little one kickin' me. And the Cap, leaving Ethan with us … it makes me want him to be mine."

"I know, sweetheart."

"And when Frey woke up, started to heal like she does …" She stopped herself again.

"You thought I should have taken notice of us for a while?" Simon suggested.

"Yes," she said quietly, sounding like her daughter when she'd been caught out in something.

"I'm sorry."

She looked up into his eyes. "Why're you apologising? I'm the one who's being mean."

"No, you're not. And I haven't seen how important this is to you, and I should have. I've had my doctor's blinkers on and … I'm sorry, Kaylee."

"Why're you so nice?" she asked, sniffing hard so as not to cry.

"Am I?"

"Yeah. And there's me being all mean and crazy." She wiped her face on her sleeve. "No, look, Freya comes first."

Simon hugged her. "You are an amazing woman, Kaylee. And if I wasn't already married to you I'd fall madly in love with you all over again."

"Only if?" she said in a small voice, looking up at him.

"Every day, my sweet wife. Every day." He kissed her gently. "And I will get those results done. I promise."

She pulled away enough to shake her head. "No. Not yet. Ain't like they're gonna go away. You look to Freya, make sure she gets well."

He leaned down again the short distance to her lips. "Thank you."

"Go on." She let him go and made shooing motions with her hands. "Go."

He smiled, heading back into the infirmary where Freya was trying to slide her body to the edge of the medbed.

"You shouldn't be doing that," he said quickly, moving to stop her. "What if you fall?"

She looked at him with blank eyes. "What would it matter?"

"Of course it matters!"

"I have to get up, Simon. I can't stay here any longer."

"That's not your decision, Freya."

"Yes it is." She slid her legs over the edge, breathing shallowly as the unaccustomed weight change made her close her eyes.

He put his hands out to stop her. "Frey, please."

"No. I have to."

"Freya –"

"You're a good doctor, Simon. But I know me. I have to … just let me get up."

"You're not strong enough –"

"_Wuh de tyen, ah_, Simon!" she shouted at him suddenly. "You don't know everything! Let me get onto my own two _choulou_ feet!"

He gazed at her, his face understanding. "Freya, I know what you're –"

"You have no idea!" Her voice was still raised.

"Doc, if she wants to get up, then maybe you ought to let her," Mal said from the doorway, having heard the shouting and come in from the cargo bay to investigate.

"Mal, she's not –"

He stepped inside the infirmary. "Is it going to hurt her?"

"Yes." Simon was getting angry now. "A lot."

Mal turned his blue eyes on his wife. "Probably not a good notion, then," he said, smiling a little.

Freya tried to push herself further forward. "_Tah muh duh_, just get out of my way," she said violently.

"Doc, not sure we've got any say in this," Mal said, not taking his eyes off her face.

"We don't even know if she _can_ stand up."

"Gorramit, stop talking about me as if I'm not here!" Freya was almost shouting again.

"Can you?" Mal asked softly.

She couldn't shrug. "I don't know. Mal, please."

"Then I guess we're gonna find out." He walked to the com. "Jayne, I'd be grateful if you could join us in the infirmary. _Mah shong._"

"Jayne?" Simon repeated.

"In case we have to carry her."

"Thank you." Freya didn't smile, just retreated again into herself, into the cocoon of darkness.

Simon looked from one to the other, then threw his hands up in the air. "Fine. Dandy. I'm just the doctor around here."

"Then hadn't you better get those crutches you were talking about?" Mal asked.

The young man muttered to himself as he reached into the corner and brought out a pair of metal frames, heavily padded at one end. "This is against medical advice, you do realise this?"

"Doc, if we don't help now, do you know what Frey's gonna do the minute your back's turned? And probably fall and undo all that good work of yours?"

Simon stared. It really hadn't occurred to him that she could be quite that _fong luh_. "Perhaps you're right," he said. "But it still isn't a good idea."

"What ain't?" Jayne asked, leaning into the infirmary.

"Frey's taken it into her head to start walking."

"'Bout time too," the big man said, stepping inside and grinning. "Too much layin' around, in my opinion."

"And you'd know?" Simon said, feeling anxious about the whole affair.

"So what do we do?" Jayne asked, ignoring the young man.

Simon sighed. "All right. Mal, Jayne, you'll need to take Freya's weight. I'll get these in place." He lifted the crutches.

"Absolutely," Mal said. He looked at his wife. "Frey?" She gazed at him, and for a moment he saw darkness in her eyes, as if she didn't even recognise him. Then they were normal again and she smiled, just a twitch of her lips. It gave him such a spark of hope that he almost felt it blaze into a conflagration inside him. "You ready?"

She shook her head which turned into a nod, then he and Jayne took as much of her weight as they dared, moving her forwards. Simon slid the crutches under her arms and they lifted her onto them. She hissed as every muscle and tendon cried out, each ligament demanded to know what the _diyu_ was going on.

She leaned onto the frames, ignoring the pain lancing through her shoulders, and tried to balance herself. "Let go of me," she said, knowing they were still holding her weight.

"Not a good idea, honey," Mal insisted. "Better if you just get used to the feel of the –"

"Let me go!" There was a desperation in her voice that was foreign to Freya, and Mal looked at Jayne.

"Guess she knows her own mind," the mercenary said.

"I've never been too sure about that," Mal said, but then nodded. He and Jayne let her take more of her own weight, until she was almost hanging on the crutches.

She wasn't going to say anything, wasn't going to admit that her feet felt like they were on fire, that flames were consuming her, and that her arms were blocks of ice with no feeling in them, except for the raw pain that was flooding through her nerves. Still, she concentrated and swung her left leg forward. Or tried to. It moved about two inches before her foot hit the floor and she had to bite her lip to not cry out. She leaned forward and tried to put her weight onto it, willing her right leg to follow. It was too much and she slipped from the crutches, the three men grabbing for her as she fell. Mal caught her first, Jayne reaching down and putting his strong arms under her legs, and they lifted her up onto the medbed.

She was crying, her eyes jammed shut. Something she'd always found so easy, never had to think about, and she couldn't take a step like a child. Even Bethany walked better than she did. Her tears mingled with the blood on her lip where she'd bitten through it.

"It's okay," Mal said softly, taking a swab from Simon's outstretched fingers and wiping at the small wound. "Just a first go. Don't mean a thing."

"I don't work," she said, so quietly he had to strain to hear. "I can't be fixed."

"That ain't true. You're so much better than you were."

"Broken."

"Then we'll mend you." Mal put his hand on her forehead. "_Xing gan_, please."

She opened her eyes, stared at him. "I deserve it. My own fault. What I did."

"No!" Every time she said this it was like a knife in his guts. "Frey, it wasn't you. It was Wing. And he paid for it."

"I let him." She turned her head away from him.

Mal looked up into Simon's face, anguish on his own, not knowing what to say or do that would help her.

"Maybe I should get you a soother," the young man suggested, turning to the supplies on the counter.

"I need to get out of here," Freya said. "I don't need to sleep any more. Too much like dying."

"Doc, if we … is there any reason she needs to be in here?" Mal asked. "What if we went to one of the guest rooms? Would that be okay?"

Simon considered. "I suppose so. Medically I guess I can easily administer … and I suppose a change of scenery wouldn't be a bad idea. All right." He fixed her with a stern eye. "But if you think it means you can do what you want, you're mistaken. If you feel strong enough to want to try and walk, then we start your physical therapy tomorrow."

"Whatever."

Simon looked at the others. "We'd better -"

"I'll do it," Freya said quickly, trying to sit up.

"Not this time," Jayne said unexpectedly, moving forwards and slipping his arms under her before Mal could object. He lifted her up. "Shit, Mal, she don't weigh a thing."

The captain nodded. "Kaylee's got some ideas on that score," he said, following the big man out into the common area, hating not being the one carrying her. "When we stop at Paquin I've got a list as long as my leg of things to get just to tempt Frey here to eat."

"Sounds like a plan."

Mal hurried past him to the room where they'd stayed in the last few weeks of Freya's pregnancy, and he slid the door open. "In here."

Jayne carried her through and laid her gently on the bed. He looked into her face. "You need to go upstairs, you call me," he said firmly. "Ain't having the Cap here blame me just 'cause you took it into your head to fall down the steps and crack your skull open. Even those two _hwoon dahns_ didn't manage to do that."

Mal glanced sharply at him, about to reprimand him for reminding her, but he was amazed to hear her laugh. Not much, nothing more than a chuckle, almost more a clearing of the throat, but it was a laugh. Maybe the big man knew his wife better than he did.

--

_The family owned a great number of vehicles, but Ivan Rostov preferred to use the small hover carriage for short distances, and it wasn't that far to the collection point. He hadn't, of course, got home in time to say goodbye, but Alex had been forced to accompany them._

"_Don't see why she gets to go," he said, his arms crossed in front of him, his voice barely containing his childish anger._

"_Because she's special," his mother said._

"_Yeah, special all right. Like in crazy."_

"_Alex," his mother scolded. "You mustn't talk like that about your sister."_

_Elena didn't care. She was staring out of the window, her heart starting to pound even harder. The space port was looming, and she could see all the different ships. "That's a Trans-U," she said excitedly. "And there's a Locust. I didn't know there'd be so many."_

"_A ship's a ship," Alex said, changing his tack to boredom. "You'll probably chuck your guts up soon as you leave atmo."_

"_Alex." Genia Rostov smacked him lightly on the leg. "You know better than to talk like that. You sound like the worst kind of gutter rat."_

"_Don't care," he muttered, but very quietly. Louder he said, "When I go off-world I'm going on a cruiser. All big and shiny. You'd never know you were in space."_

"_What's the point of that?" Elena asked, glancing over to look at him. No matter that he was mean to her, that he taunted her for her talents, he was her brother and she loved him. "You might as well stay at home."_

"_Fat lot you know," he said, striking out and catching her arm._

"_Alex." His mother was getting tired of this. "Don't do that again or you'll lose your allowance for the next three months."_

"_Hell, be worth it," Elena heard him think._

_She rubbed her arm, but continued to stare out of the window. "We're here!" she said, almost bouncing up and down on the seat._

"_Elena, behave."_

"_But they're waiting for us. For me." She smiled widely, her happiness overflowing into the small carriage._

--

Mal woke up first, and lay there for a moment, revelling in the feeling of his wife at last being next to him. He turned his head to look at her. She was lying on her back, as she had to at the moment, unable to get comfortable in any other position. Not that she was comfortable. It took one of Simon's hypos to make her even doze. At least she looked peaceful, and he checked quickly, and guiltily, to make sure she was still breathing. What the young doc had said before had made him all too aware of what a determined woman like Freya could do.

At least she wasn't moaning, like she had been during the night. The nightmares were back. He'd hoped so much that Simon was wrong, that the change of room would help break the cycle, but just after midnight they began again. He put his arm around her, holding her gently, at least letting her know he was there, touching her. At one point her eyes flew open, and she pushed him away, trying to call out but no sound escaping from her throat. She lifted from the pillow, her fingers outstretched, her face a mask of pain as she tried to reach something, or stop something …

He could only watch, waiting until she fell back, her eyes closing again, unintelligible words falling from her lips as her head thrashed. Tentatively he put his arm back across her, and at least this time she didn't push him away.

He began to talk softly, just words, so she could have something else to hold onto. As he spoke he realised it was a lullaby his mother used to use, something from long ago that he thought he'd forgotten. "_Oh, fear not the bugle, tho' loudly it blows, it calls but the warders that guard thy repose; their bows would be bended, their blades would be red, ere the step of a foeman draws near to thy bed. Oh, hush thee, my baby, thy sire was a knight, oh, hush thee, my baby, so bonnie, so bright._"

It seemed to work, as the trembling and noise diminished, and she drifted into a deeper sleep. He lay still, not wanting to disturb her, and eventually dropped into a fitful doze himself.

Now he watched her, wishing he could do more. Eventually he heard the others moving about, and slid silently out of bed, dressing quickly. As he pulled his suspenders onto his shoulders, he heard her speak.

"Mal?"

He looked around. "Morning, sleepy," he said, smiling at her. "Feel like some breakfast?"

"Not really."

"Well, how about you lie there like a lady of leisure and I go see what's on the menu, bring us back something?"

"You don't have to."

"Sure I do." He sat down on the edge of the bed, stroking her hair from her face. "'Cause I want to." He grabbed his boots and tugged them on. "So, what takes your fancy? Eggs, maybe? Or I think there's some of that stew Kaylee made yesterday. I can heat it up for you."

Freya grimaced. "No. Thanks."

"Then what?"

"I don't care."

His eyebrows drew together in concern. "You should, _ai ren_. You need to eat, get your strength back. Simon wasn't kidding when he talked about therapy. And knowing him it ain't gonna be easy."

"I don't mind what you bring back," she said, reaching out and putting her hand on his arm. "Eggs, maybe."

"Eggs it is, then." He ran his fingers through his hair, trying to make it lie flat and making a mental note to bring their stuff down from the bunk. "Want me to bring Ethan in? He can lie next to you, make you feel better."

"No." She shook her head slightly. "Let him be. He's better off where he is."

He looked at her. "No, he ain't. He ain't with his momma."

She didn't want to argue, didn't have the strength, so instead she said, "Food?"

He grinned and stood up. "Your wish is my command." Bowing somewhat stiffly he hurried out of the door.

He didn't see the tears running down her cheeks to stain the pillow.


	4. Chapter 4

She'd eaten some, but not all of the eggs he'd got Kaylee to make. All the while he was feeding her he was talking, nonsense mostly, just keeping the silence at bay.

"'Course, if I'd cooked 'em it'd just be a mess in the bottom of the pan," Mal admitted, smiling. "But Kaylee's a fine cook. What she can do with a –"

"I hate this," Freya said suddenly. "You having to feed me."

"You want to do it yourself?" he asked, holding out the fork. "I'm sure I wouldn't mind. Be able to get to my own breakfast before it congeals into something we might use to fix a bulkhead leak."

She lifted her hand, trying to grip the fork and feeling it slip from her fingers back onto the plate. "_Run tse de shang dee_," she muttered, trying again, and again it falling back.

"Never mind," Mal said softly. "Tomorrow."

Freya let him dress her, his hands gentle, doing for her what she couldn't do for herself, and making her feel even more useless.

"Why are you doing this?" she asked, looking down to the top of his dark head as he put the soft shoes Inara had given her onto her feet. She hated him seeing them, the way they looked now.

He looked up in surprise. "You need to get dressed. Feel normal."

"I ain't normal, Mal."

He sat next to her, putting his arm round her carefully, so lightly she could hardly feel him. "You are, Frey. You're my wife."

"No, I'm not. I don't work properly any more. I can't even pick up my son …"

"I said I'd bring him in."

She looked into his blue eyes, hardly hearing him. "And what I've done to you …"

"To me?"

"It would be better if –"

"No!" Mal's voice was loud, sudden, violent. "Don't ever … _ever_ say that again." He wanted to take hold of her shoulders, shake some sense into her, but knowing he couldn't. Instead he had to content himself with sitting next to her, pressing as much of himself against her as he could. "Freya, I love you. Please don't. It wasn't your fault. I wish I could make you believe that."

"Sure." She didn't look at him. "I believe you." She glanced across at the crutches leaning against the wall. "I want to try again."

"Not yet. And not today."

"You've got some work to do first," Simon said, leaning in the doorway. "Feeling up to it?"

"Up to what?" Freya asked.

"You want to walk. So we're going to start doing some exercises." He looked at Mal. "Do you want to give us a while?"

"No," Mal said, standing up. "I think I ought to stay."

Simon shook his head. "Not a good idea."

"Doc, you ain't giving me orders on my boat again, are you?"

The young man didn't respond, just walked away from the room, forcing Mal to follow. When they were outside the infirmary he stopped. "Mal, this isn't going to be pleasant," he finally said. "Certainly not the first time. I have to see how much she can take, and it's … it will be painful."

"You're going to hurt her?" Mal could feel the hair on his neck begin to rise.

"Only as far as I have to. After that I'll know what needs to be done, how far I can take it and how fast." He stepped closer. "Mal, if she wants to walk, there's no choice."

"All the more reason I should stay."

"All the more reason you shouldn't. She blames herself for this anyway. How do you think she's going to feel if you have to watch her hurting again?"

"They teach you how to be a pain in the ass at MedAcad?" Mal asked, glaring at him.

"Top of my class."

Mal's gaze didn't waver, but at last he said, "How long do you need, doc?"

"An hour. Maybe more."

"An …" Mal stopped. "Just let me know when you're done. I'll go find something else to do." He glanced towards his temporary home, then headed up the stairs towards the galley.

--

"Cap? Everything okay?" Kaylee asked, putting the last of the breakfast things away.

"Sure." He sat down in his chair. "Wasn't it supposed to be Jayne's turn to clean up?"

"We swopped," Kaylee said. "He's gonna cook tonight instead. Still got some of that meat left from Boros we need to eat, so he's gonna do a barbeque."

"Great," Mal replied without enthusiasm. "Last time he did that the whole boat stank for a week."

"Nah, I got that fixed, Cap'n," Kaylee said, wiping her hands on a cloth and grinning. "I boosted the atmo cleaners. Shouldn't do more'n' wet our appetites."

"See that it doesn't." Mal looked down at his hands.

"You sure you're okay? Only it don't look like everything's okay."

"Your husband's working on Freya," Mal admitted. "Threw me out."

"Oh." Kaylee came out from behind the counter. "Want some company for a while?" she asked. "I was gonna scrub the air filters ready for tonight, but if you need someone to talk to …"

He looked up at her, seeing the beautiful young woman she'd become since he first took her on board. "You get to work. Ain't paying you to sit with a mean old man like me."

"You ain't mean. And you ain't old, neither." She slid into the chair next to him.

"Next you'll be saying I ain't a man," Mal joked, but not feeling very funny.

"Wouldn't dare," she grinned. "Not from what Freya's said." He looked so surprised she laughed. "It's all right. She don't give details. Just that you know how to satisfy her."

"Kaylee!" Now Mal was shocked.

"You think we don't talk about it? All girls together? When 'Nara makes that jasmine tea and we sit in her shuttle and …" Her face fell. "Well, we used to. Ain't done it lately. Not what with …" She waved a hand towards the infirmary.

"You will again," Mal said. "And I'm sure Freya will be more than ready to pass on a few of my more intriguing peccadilloes."

Kaylee managed a smile, knowing he was trying to cheer her up. "Already has, Cap'n." She put her head on one side and regarded him. "Never took you for the kind to be into bondage, though. Cross-dressing, yeah. But –"

"Go!" Mal ordered, pointing towards his engine room. "And take your smutty mind with you!"

"Aye aye, Captain," Kaylee said, jumping to her feet and scampering off.

He watched her go, a slight smile on his face. She sure was a little minx. And Bethany looked to be inheriting just that same streak of mischief. Thinking of Bethany made him think of Ethan, and Freya. How she'd refused to let him bring their son in, yet a few minutes later she was wishing she could hold him.

He couldn't hear anything from below, but that didn't mean that Simon wasn't … He swallowed hard. Gorramit, but he needed –

"Captain?" It was Jethro stepping down into the kitchen area. "River said you needed Ethan?"

Mal realised the young man had his son in his arms, and his lips twitched, just a little. "Thanks," he said, standing up and taking Ethan, holding him close. He sat back, aware the young man was standing watching him. "And tell River she's supposed to be eavesdropping on Freya, not me."

"I will." Jethro didn't leave, however, but sat down instead.

"Something I can help you with, son?" Mal asked, not looking at him, just gazing into Ethan's blue eyes.

"I wondered if you'd like to talk," Jethro said slowly.

"Not that much."

"Only I've heard tell you've been praying."

Mal sat still for a moment, then shrugged. "Seems like people should maybe be keeping certain things to themselves."

Jethro didn't seem to have heard, as he went on, "And that seems strange to me as I was led to believe you weren't a religious man."

"Ain't no atheists on the battlefield, Preacher," Mal said quietly.

"What?"

"Nothing. Just something I said once. To a man I knew."

"Shepherd Book?"

Mal looked up, suddenly wary. "How'd you know about him?"

"River told me. And Zoe's mentioned him. You don't, though."

"He was my crew."

"He was your friend."

"That too."

"And you miss him?"

Mal almost laughed. "Been a while, Jethro. Buried him some time back."

"It doesn't mean you still don't carry on missing someone. Even when they're in the next room. Or one deck down."

Mal was taken aback but wasn't going to admit it. "You trying to play games with me?"

"No. Just letting you know that I understand." He leaned back and steepled his fingers in front of his chin, the action causing Mal to jerk. "The woman downstairs isn't Freya. Not totally. And you're afraid she may never really come back."

For a moment Mal heard the voice of someone else, older, grey hair caught back from a wise, gentle face. "It ain't any of your affair, Shepherd," he said quietly, dropping his head.

"Perhaps. But I just want you to know that I'm here if you need to talk. You've got to have faith, Mal."

"Long wait for a train that don't come," Mal muttered, staring back into the past.

"Just believe."

Mal looked up sharply, but it was only Jethro sitting at the table with him. "I can't," he said dully.

"But River … she said …" Jethro stammered to a halt and Mal relaxed a little.

"That I prayed for Freya? That I did. And I am. But it ain't for me. I don't believe in that no more."

"Why?"

Mal sat back, holding Ethan carefully in his arms. "You looking to get into trouble?" he asked.

"No, no," Jethro insisted. "But it seems to me a strange thing for a man who disbelieves in the existence of God."

"It's a long story, Jethro."

"We've got all day."

"And I ain't inclined to tell it," Mal finished. "Let's just say that my momma brought me up to be God-lovin' and God-fearin' in more or less equal proportion … maybe a little heavier on the lovin' side. Even once contemplated being a Shepherd myself." He almost smiled at the shocked look on the young man's face. "Mind, it was only for about twenty minutes until little Dilly Fairbrass leaned forward to pick up her school books and I realised she weren't so little any more."

Jethro blushed. "Really."

"I'll tell you," Mal went on, "she was a sight for a growing boy, and I mean growing in a whole different way too. Had me dreams about her for weeks, and they were the kind you didn't want your momma to find out about. _Dong mah_?"

Mal could see Jethro realised he was doing it on purpose. "Oh, I know," the young man said, joining in. "I had a similar experience with Rose Barossa. I was on my knees asking forgiveness for a month."

"It wasn't my knees that were the problem," Mal pointed out.

Jethro laughed guiltily. "I suppose not."

Mal grinned. "Course, the day I got Dilly alone in the haybarn I figured all my dreams'd come true."

Jethro froze. "Oh. And … did you?"

"No," Mal said, and the young man relaxed. "I got one hand on her ass and she hauled off and hit me so hard she made my teeth ring. Then she stormed off, told her pa. Who told my Ma, and I got such a whupping."

"How old were you?" Jethro asked, fascinated.

"Near fourteen. You?"

"Pretty much the same."

"Things ain't changed that much, then."

"It appears not." Jethro was thoughtful.

Mal looked down at his son and smiled. It had been a long time since he'd been able to wind anyone up like that, just gently, just to see what happened. He decided to take it a step further. "So, you and River getting on okay?" he asked suddenly.

Jethro turned bright red. "Um, fine. Fine."

"I hope you ain't bedding the girl." Mal managed to get a lot of captainy-emphasis into his voice. "Wouldn't look kindly on that. Neither would her brother."

"No, I wouldn't … not with … not like …" Jethro stood up quickly. "I have to …" He turned and fled.

Mal looked down at Ethan. "No, reckon he ain't yet. But it won't be too long." He glanced at the door the boy had run out of. "Sure hope River knows what she's doing. I'd hate to be the one had to pick up the pieces. Kinda ruin my day."

Ethan grabbed his finger, holding it tight and bringing it to his mouth to suckle gently.

"It'll be okay, little feller," Mal went on, his voice real quiet. "Your momma'll be fine. I promise. And I keep my promises." He gathered his son close and buried his face in him.

--

_There were other young people, pretty much her own age, milling around, some with parents, perhaps older siblings, and others on their own. As Elena jumped from the carriage, she could see a few of them were scared, holding tightly to grown up hands, and she wondered why. This was such an adventure._

"_Elena Rostov?" _

_Someone put a hand on her shoulder and she jumped, turning around to see a woman, about her mother's age, smiling at her._

"_Yes," she said, grinning. "I'm Elena."_

"_We've been waiting for you. It's time to leave." She signalled the man with her to take Elena's cases from their driver._

"_Okay." Elena turned around to her mother and Alex. "Will you write to me?" she asked, wanting to hug her, but afraid she'd crush her mother's perfect dress. Besides, she didn't approve of such displays of affection in public._

"_Of course," Genia Rostov said, smiling. She stroked her daughter's long hair. "But I'm sure you're going to be so busy you won't want to hear from us."_

"_No, I will!" Elena insisted. She looked at her brother. "Are you going to write?"_

"_No."_

"_Yes he will." His mother put her hand around his shoulders, pulling him closer._

_Elena looked at the pair of them and suddenly felt like an outsider. They were a family without her, without the disturbance she brought. Even her father preferred Alex._

"_It doesn't matter," she said. "I'm going to be too busy anyway."_

"_Elena?" It was the woman again. "You need to get on board now."_

_She smiled. "Coming." She glanced back at her mother and brother. "Miss me," she said before following the woman onto the transport._

_There was the slight taste of relief from her mother's mind._


	5. Chapter 5

She was trying to undo her buttons, ready to get under the covers for the night, but she still couldn't make them work enough, and it was frustrating her.

"Hey, let me do that," Mal said, crossing the small room in two strides and sitting down next to her.

"No. I have to." She batted his hands away. "It's just buttons. I have to be able to do this. It's just –" Her fingers slipped again, and in rage and frustration she found a sudden strength and pulled at the fabric of her shirt, bursting the stitches, three buttons flying to the corners of the room.

Mal just sat and watched. "Can I help now?"

She nodded, biting her lip.

"I'll get Kaylee to sew them back on some time," he said, undoing the remaining buttons. "If I can find 'em. Course, might've got into the workings and could blow the main atmo feed, but we'll deal with that when it happens."

"I'm sorry."

"What for?" He smiled. "Blowing the atmo feed?"

"Getting annoyed."

"_Ai ren_, if anyone has a right to get annoyed, I figure it's probably you." He pushed the shirt from her shoulders, revealing the incision marks and scars on her skin. He ran a finger across one.

"Don't," she said, trying to cover herself. "Don't look at me."

"Why not?" He asked, feeling the raised areas. "I love you."

"It's not me." She tried to force his hands away, but she was as weak as a kitten again. "Please don't."

He stopped, dropping his hands into his lap. "I'm not trying to make you do something you don't want," he said softly.. "I just want you to understand these …" He indicated the scars. "… don't mean anything. You're my wife. My Frey. And I love you."

"Don't say that."

"I love you, Frey. More'n I ever loved anyone or anything. More'n I ever believed I could. I love you."

"Don't keep saying that!" She turned and pushed him away, trying to make him stop.

"I love you."

She stared at him, her face anguished, then began to cry, leaning into him. "Mal … help me," she said softly. "Please help me."

He put his arm around her, holding her as tightly as he dared, kissing the top of her head. "I'm here. Ain't going nowhere."

"I can't stop it," she sobbed quietly.

"Stop what?"

"I can't control it."

He deliberately misunderstood. "You will. Bones heal quicker'n' muscles, least according to the doc. Soon as you're up on your feet again, you'll feel more like yourself."

"There's no-one left to feel like," she murmured.

"That's _fei hua_ and you know it," he said, lifting her chin to look into her eyes. "You're Freya. Strongest person I've ever met, and I'm including Zoe and Jayne in that statement." He was gratified to see her lips twitch. "You're strong, _meili xin gan_. And I'm here. We're all here. We're all going to help."

"Mal …"

"Come on, lie down."

"I'm not undressed."

"I don't think we'll worry about that for one night." He lifted her legs onto the bed and pulled the covers across. "Just don't tell anyone." He stood up.

"Where are you going?" she asked.

"To get Ethan. I figure he can sleep in with us tonight."

"No."

He looked down at her, confusion in his eyes again. "Why not?"

"Because I want to be on my own. Without you."

He sat again. "Frey, I'm not gonna do that."

"Please. I just … I can't have you next to me."

"But we've just –"

"No. You need to sleep. Someplace else. Away from me." She looked into his face, her own expressionless again. "I know the nightmares wake you up."

"That doesn't matter."

"Use one of the other rooms. Or go back to your bunk. Please, Mal. I don't want you here."

He stared at her, then nodded slowly. "Maybe there are a few things I need to get done before I turn in. Let you get some rest first." He stood up. "You need me, you just call."

"I will."

He tucked the covers around her. "G'night, Frey."

"'Night, Mal."

"I love you." He kissed her gently but there was little response.

"I know."

He stepped back, watching as she closed her eyes, his heart close to breaking.

--

"Mal's finding this difficult." Hank dragged his boots off and tossed them into the corner.

"Did you expect it to be easy for him?" Zoe asked, turning in her seat where she was brushing her hair.

"No, but … it just seems to have hit him real hard. More'n' I would have guessed. I mean, he's the captain. He's been through so much, been tortured himself and seen stuff I don't even want to imagine, yet this …"

Zoe put down her hairbrush. "Maybe that's why."

Hank looked across at her. "_Shah muh_?"

Zoe got up and crossed the room to sit by him. "After Command ordered our surrender at Serenity Valley, he fought on until there was no more food, no ammo, nothing left to fight with. Then they just left us. More'n two weeks with injured men and all. You can't believe the smell, although the worse thing is you get used to it." She leaned into him, looking into the past. "People don't die quietly, not during times of war. It's just that usually you don't notice. Only once the sound of battle had gone we could hear them. Moaning, screaming, crying out for their mothers … and we couldn't do anything. The captain took it to heart. He tried his best, talking to them, patching them where he could, but we had no medics, no supplies … and every so often you'd hear a gun go off, and you knew someone hadn't been able to take it no more."

Hank took hold of her hand, giving her the comfort he knew she needed. She squeezed his fingers tightly.

"Strange thing is," she went on, "it wasn't generally the injured that were taking that way out. It was others, who couldn't cope, couldn't survive, knowing they'd …" She paused a moment. "Then, one night, we heard a gun fire real close. Just a few yards away. We went to see who'd …"

She licked dry lips, and Hank wondered why people thought she had no emotions.

"It was a young man, not much more'n eighteen, name of Chillis. He was lying in a pothole, three corpses beside him, his gun a few feet away. He'd stuck the barrel under his chin and pulled the trigger, blowing off most of his face. Mal got down into the pothole to get his dogtags, send them home if we ever got out. Then Chillis grabbed his hand."

Hank couldn't help the jolt that went through him.

"Don't know how, but the bullet hadn't killed him, only now he was drowning in blood. He was trying to speak, but it wasn't anything but grunts and bubbles. 'Cept Mal understood. He put his own gun to the boy's head and pulled the trigger. He did a better job of it."

"Zoe …"

"Two hours later the medships finally arrived, and we were evac'd."

"Two hours …" Hank was appalled. Only two hours and it would have been over.

Zoe came back and looked at him. "It was Mal's last bullet, one he'd been saving for himself. I'd seen him, a dozen times through those fifteen days, looking at his pistol, staring at it like he was trying to come to a decision. And every time there'd be another gunshot and someone else'd be dead. Only it was never him." She reached up and stroked her hand through his hair. "See, he knows all about how easy it is to end it, and how hard it is to carry on. He couldn't save them. And now he's afraid he can't save her."

"He can't let anything happen to her." Hank looked distressed.

"No. See, it's different this time," she said, putting her arm around his shoulders. "He's got all of us with him."

"But he had you then."

"Yeah. But I'd run out of ammo already."

He stared at her.

--

_Elena found a seat near the window and looked out. From up here she could see a long way, almost to the edge of the world. She could certainly see her father's hover carriage making its way out of the spaceport._

_They hadn't waited to see her take off._

_It didn't matter. They wouldn't have known where she was sitting, if she could see them, even if they waved._

_But they still hadn't waited._

_The girl opposite was gazing at her. "They didn't mean it," she said, her voice light, almost as pale as her hair._

"_I know," Elena agreed, not bothering to wonder how she knew. "But it still hurts."_

"_I didn't have anyone to see me off," the girl said. "My parents died when I was small."_

"_I'm sorry," Elena said, leaning forward. "What happened?"_

"_A fire. I don't remember them at all."_

"_I'm sorry."_

"_Me too." The girl suddenly smiled. "But this is such an adventure, isn't it?"_

_Elena couldn't help it. As they felt the ship take off, she took hold of the other girl's hands. "Oh, it is. I can't wait!"_

"_Me neither!"_

_They grinned at each other as the flames outside lit their faces._

"_I'm Elena, by the way."_

"_Freya."_

"_Are we going to be friends?"_

_Freya laughed. "We are already!"_

--

Paquin came and went, the cargo picked up and stored, and they were soon off into the black again, this time heading for Verbena.

Mal carried the supplies he'd bought into the kitchen.

"Did'ya get it, Cap'n?" Kaylee asked excitedly, hurrying in from the engine room.

"I did," he said, putting the box down on the counter. "Wasn't easy, either. Took me a lot of time negotiating."

Kaylee turned over the contents. "Ooh, the good stuff," she said, smiling broadly.

"Don't go wasting it," Mal warned. "I ain't made of money, you know."

"It's not a waste," Kaylee gently admonished him. "Not for what I had in mind."

"Just so long as you know there probably won't be any more."

"Did you know your nose'll grow if you lie like that?" she asked.

"Ain't lying," Mal said, heading for the bridge.

"Like hell," she murmured to herself, taking the bowls from the cupboard. "You'd spend every last penny you got to make her better." She knew her captain.

--

Simon rolled down his sleeves and looked at Freya lying exhausted on the bed. "You're doing really well," he said, smiling. "Next couple of days, I think you can start using the crutches. Just for a few minutes at a time."

Freya nodded, tasting blood in her mouth. She'd bitten her lip again, the same place she always did when Simon forced her muscles to work in his therapy sessions. "Sooner the better," she said.

"Don't try and force it, Freya," he warned. "That way you could do more damage and make it an even longer process."

"I need to get moving."

"Why?" Simon asked, leaning on the wall. "What do you have to do that's so important?"

"Be me."

"And you can't do that in here?"

"Why don't you go back to your wife?" Freya asked, closing her eyes. "At least she needs you."

"Yes, she does." Simon picked up his bag. "And everyone needs you."

She didn't answer, just lay there, listening to him leave, going back to the infirmary. She couldn't explain, couldn't tell him. She tried with Mal, but he wouldn't listen. Tried to tell him about the darkness all around her, waiting for her to put a foot wrong, to overwhelm her. The darkness that hid the sounds of bones cracking, of men breathing heavily as they did their job, of screams that went unanswered …

In her room River shuddered.

--

"How come the chocolate don't just run out?" Jayne asked, leaning over her shoulder as she removed the cookies from the tray.

Kaylee had baked some as a treat, filled with chocolate chips. It was her mother's recipe, and as such had always been a firm favourite with her and her brothers.

"Not sure," she admitted, then rapped him on the knuckles with the spatula. "They ain't for you. They're for Freya."

"Something smells good," Jethro said, stepping into the galley.

"Ain't ours," Jayne said quickly. "Kaylee's done 'em for Freya."

"Good idea." He reached the counter. "They look wonderful."

"Trying to get her to eat," Kaylee explained. "Her and the Cap, they ain't had a proper meal since we … since she got back."

"I'm sure she won't be able to resist." Jethro smiled. "And if you want a taster …"

"Hey, I was there first!" Jayne protested.

"You know, I think you'd better go get Freya, before I end up with nothing but a tray of crumbs," Kaylee said quickly.

"Do I get one as a reward?" the big man asked hopefully.

"Perhaps."

"Deal." He was out of the door and hurrying down the stairs before Kaylee could say another word.

--

They were good cookies, Freya had to admit. Almost like the ones she remembered. With a cookie in one hand, and a glass of milk in the other, she almost felt the darkness thin out, almost saw the light.

"Hey, am I missing something here?" Hank asked, stepping down into the kitchen, sniffing the air ostentatiously.

"Nothing for you," Kaylee said, sitting at the table watching her friend take small bites, alternating with sips of milk, and felt satisfied.

"Chocolate?" The pilot shook his head. "You got chocolate and you say it's nothing for me?"

"You get back to the bridge, little man," Jayne said, brushing crumbs off his t-shirt where he sat next to Freya.

"How come you get one?" Hank asked in astonishment. He turned to Kaylee. "How come he gets one and I don't?"

"'Cause I carried Freya up the stairs." The big man grinned.

"I could do that."

"Right."

"I've been working hard," Hank insisted. He lifted his right arm, bending it to make his biceps bulge. "See?"

"Careful, Hank, or I might just swoon away," Kaylee giggled.

"You go ahead and swoon," Hank said grandly. "I won't mind."

"Hey, I thought you were gonna call me when they were ready," Mal said, joining them.

"I didn't get a chance," Kaylee explained. "And if I'd left this lot alone with 'em you'd never have got one."

Mal grinned, a proper smile, the first he'd had for a long while. "Hope they're worth it." He picked one off the cooling tray and bit into it. "Oh, yeah. They are."

"See?" Kaylee preened. "My momma knows a thing or two about cookin'."

"You know, you could turn me into a feller with a sweet tooth, you keep baking like that."

"Well, Cap'n, my momma has a whole recipe book of things like this, and I could easily wave her, get her to send me a few more."

"Good idea," Jayne said, reaching for a second.

"No, you don't," Kaylee said, slapping his hand again. "I already told you, these are for Frey and the Cap."

"That ain't fair." He pouted. "'N' I gotta carry her back down."

"I can walk," Freya said unexpectedly.

Everyone glanced at Mal, who said, "Not yet, _ai ren_. Not 'til Simon says you can."

"I'm getting better. Every day." She smiled just a little, holding up her hands. "See?" Then her grip gave and the glass crashed to the ground, shattering. "Oh, I'm so sorry," she cried.

"No, don't worry none about that," Kaylee said quickly, getting up to fetch a cloth. Mal went down onto his haunches and started picking up the broken glass.

"Ain't nothing," he said, glancing up at her and smiling. "Easily fixed."

Freya felt her skin burning with embarrassment. "I didn't mean –" Then she realised the cookie had fallen to the floor too, right into the centre of the mess. "I don't believe …" She reached down automatically, then found herself slipping, and it was only Jayne's speed that caught her before she ended up in the same situation as the milk and cookie.

"Here, don't wanna be doing that," the big man said, lifting her tenderly back into her chair.

The darkness swirled back in. "Take me back," she said quietly.

"What?"

"Take me back to my room. Please."

Jayne looked across at Mal, who nodded slowly. "Okay, Frey," the big mercenary said, picking her up and carrying her out.

"Cap?" Kaylee asked, her voice loud in the silent room.

Mal just shook his head, not trusting himself to speak.


	6. Chapter 6

_Elena sat in her class and grinned. This was so good. So much to learn. So many things to make her day bright. And a friend to talk to, someone who understood, who enjoyed it all as much as she did. She glanced across the room towards Freya, her blonde head intent on the book on her desk. Then she looked across, and they both smiled. They always did know what the other was thinking._

_The teacher rapped her pen on the desk. "Elena Rostov, you are supposed to be working."_

"_I've finished," she said, holding up her book._

"_Then bring it to me."_

_Elena got up, aware of all her fellow classmates eyes on her as she walked to the front. She handed the book over. "It was easy," she said quietly._

"_I see." The teacher thumbed through the exercises. "And so it appears to be." She handed the book back. "Then for the rest of the lesson I think you should go onto chapter eight. See if that is a little more taxing."_

"_Yes, Madam Fong." As she headed back to her desk her heart soared. She'd never felt like this before, so jing cai, and to be amongst others just the same … She sat back down and called up chapter eight. Oh, this was so much fun …_

_The teacher watched her for a moment, the girl's pen hurtling across the page as she solved one problem after another. Then she brought up the class roster on her screen, delicately tapping in a command code, waiting until a blue light appeared next to Elena Rostov's name …_

--

"Mal?"

Serenity's captain was sitting in the pilot's chair, staring out into the black, and didn't turn as Inara stepped onto the bridge. "Couldn't sleep?" he asked.

"I was thinking." Inara sat down in the other seat.

"Yeah. I find myself doing that a lot, this time of night. When I'm wakeful."

"And when was the last time you got more than a couple of hours sleep?" she asked.

He dropped his head slightly. "Probably a while."

"Try since Freya was kidnapped."

He looked back out at the stars. "Reckon you might be right."

"Why aren't you with her?"

"She told me to go," he said simply.

"Go?"

"Told me she didn't want to keep waking me with the dreams, that I should go sleep someplace else."

"And you believed her?"

Mal turned enough so that he could look at the ex-Companion. "Am I supposed to?"

Inara understood. "When do you go back?"

"I leave it a few hours, then head down to our room. Look in on Ethan, then check Frey." He looked away again. "If she's asleep I lay down next to her, hold her. Wait for the nightmares to come. And I can't stop them."

"I'm sorry." It seemed such a ridiculous thing to say, but she truly was.

Mal stared out of the window. "Thanks." He paused for a long while before he went on, "Bad enough she won't let me do things for her."

"What do you mean?"

"She hates me dressing her, feeding her, even though she can't do that for herself. Not yet. But she won't even let me carry her." Now his voice was tinged with pain. "I know I'm afraid of hurting her, but she don't seem to have that problem with Jayne." Mal sounded so frustrated. "She's shutting me out but lets him carry her whenever."

"She trusts him."

"And she don't trust me?" Mal was suddenly angry. "I'm her husband, 'Nara! I want to do all the stuff she lets Jayne do! And why him? What the _diyu_ does that man have to do with my wife?"

"Maybe that's who she needs right now. Have you thought about that?" Inara leaned forward. "Someone who understands, wants to help, but isn't going to die if she does."

Mal shot her a furious look. "She ain't gonna die!" he shouted, not caring if the rest of the ship heard him.

Inara regarded him with way too much understanding. "I notice you didn't say you wouldn't die, though."

Mal's glare seared her soul, but the blaze was brief and died back to ashen embers. "I would've, if she had," he admitted. "And now …" He turned away. "I'm afraid of the darkness."

Inara glanced out into the black, surprised. "Darkness?"

"No. Not out there. In her mind. She thinks I don't understand, but I do. I remember what she's told me before, when Lon burned her back, burned the tattoo off her skin, about her being terrified the darkness was gonna take her and she'd kill us all. Kill me."

"Mal, surely –"

"No. I don't believe she'd kill me. But she thinks she could and that's what makes it so hard. I have to help her somehow." He closed his eyes briefly, rubbing his hands across them. "She won't even look at Ethan no more, 'Nara." The desolation in his voice was palpable. "At least she let me hold him for her before, but now … she thinks she's a bad mother, doing what she did, that she doesn't deserve him. And I don't know how to stop it."

"You'll make yourself ill." Already the man had a haunted look, his cheeks sunken in more than before, his skin stretched across his bones.

"But I have to be there for her, 'Nara. 'Til she tells me to leave and I accept it."

"Is that ever going to happen?"

"No," he admitted. "Not in this lifetime. It doesn't matter how often she says it, I'll never believe her." He shifted slightly in the seat. "Times like this I wish I were psychic myself, so that I could see what hurts her so in those dreams. Maybe take 'em on for her. Kill the monsters."

"If only you could …"

"If her mentor was still alive, I'd be trying to find him. He helped her before, drove all the darkness away from her so she became the woman I love. Might be he could've done it again." Mal sighed. "Without him I don't see how I can …" He stopped, not trusting himself.

"Mal, why don't you get Jethro to talk to her?" Inara suggested, somewhat diffidently. "I know you don't approve of religion, and Freya doesn't follow his, but he might … he could help."

"Kinda like a second?" Mal's lips twitched. "In a fight? Can't get the real thing so I send in the next best?"

Inara smiled a little. "Something like that."

"Think he would?"

Inara realised this proved how much he loved Freya, that he would do anything to help her. "I think he might. If you asked nicely."

"When don't I ask nicely?"

"Oh, about all the time."

"Can't you talk to her? You know her. Understand her." Mal looked at the ex-Companion. "You wanna be a Counsellor? Help Freya."

"Mal, I …"

"She needs you, Inara."

"I …" She stopped. "I just think someone else … someone a step removed …"

"You don't want to." Mal was surprised, and disappointed.

"It's not that I don't want to, it's just I'm so close, she might not –"

"No, it's okay. You don't have to explain." Mal stood up. "Think I'd better go check on my wife," he said, bitterness in his voice. "Make sure she ain't managed to kill herself yet."

Inara wanted to stop him, to apologise, to explain, but she couldn't. Instead she let him leave the bridge.

Staring out at the stars she wished most fervently for some kind of guidance. Something to show her what to do, but there was no comet to light her way, no sudden epiphany. She drew the printout from her pocket and read the communiqué twice more. It wasn't what she'd hoped, but it was a start. At least someone was talking to her. She sighed. She wished she could talk to Mal, but with Freya still … it wasn't right that she burden him with this too.

She thought about her shuttle, of the gaps where certain pieces of art used to be. No-one else probably even noticed they were gone, and if they had they probably put it down to the damage the Reavers on Corvus did. They'd never know she'd sold them.

She shivered. She so wanted to make a start, but she couldn't, not until Freya was out of the woods.

--

It was difficult. More than difficult. It hurt every part of her, but she needed to do it. Every step was like agony splicing up through her, but she managed to lever her way out of the room and into the common area.

The infirmary was dark, the doors closed, but she could hear movement from Simon and Kaylee's bunk. They were talking about something, their voices muted, but then Kaylee laughed. Freya wanted to smile, to say that it was good things were getting back to normal, but in reality it hurt more than the pain in her body. Things _were_ getting back to normal, but not for her. She was broken. She needed to feel whole again, needed it so badly. The closest had been when she was eating the cookie Kaylee had baked, and she needed to feel that again.

She struggled up the stairs, each step so painful all she wanted to do was lay down, let it all end, but she kept going. Twice she almost slipped, almost toppled backwards, but it was sheer luck that kept her on her feet. Finally she reached the top, the corridor outside the kitchen, and she was whimpering with the effort.

No-one was inside. The lights were still on, which meant Mal hadn't gone to wherever he was sleeping yet, but the galley was empty. She climbed awkwardly over the sill and headed slowly for the counter where a tin sat. She knew, without needing to wonder how, that the cookies were inside. Hobbling painfully, she took a glass from the counter, putting it ready. It took more effort to open the fridge and lift out the milk, but she managed it, having to use both hands to lift it and pour some out, balancing on the crutches.

The cookie tin, however, defeated her. No matter how she tried, she couldn't get the lid off. She was almost crying with frustration by the time she gave in. Shuddering she took a deep breath. Never mind. Maybe the milk would be enough.

She lifted it to her lips but the glass slipped from her fingers, just as the first had done, this time not breaking as it hit the floor, only laying on its side haemorrhaging milk.

"No," she moaned softly, reaching down to pick it up. One of her crutches slipped and it slid from under her, propelling her forwards. She put out her hands automatically to break her fall, hearing the crack of glass as it broke beneath the heel of her right hand. She fell to the floor, crying out in pain as she jarred her hips, her back, everywhere.

For a long moment she just sat, aware that her robe was soaking up the spilled liquid. She glanced down at the pool of milk and realised it was turning pink. In surprise she lifted her hand, bemused as red drops fell from her wrist. Turning it over she could see a jagged piece of glass thrust into her flesh.

She reached out and tugged it free, the drops turning to a stream, fascinated by the growing puddle at her side.

"Frey?" Mal called, coming up the stairs from their temporary home. He'd been looking for her, surprised at not finding her asleep. He thought he heard a crash from the galley and hurried up to check. Stepping inside, he couldn't see her, but picked up a slight movement, something like the chink of broken glass, behind the counter. He crossed the floor … "_Run-tse de fuo-tsoo_," he breathed, grabbing a cloth and falling to his knees. Pulling her wrist to him, he wrapped the cloth around it, yelling now. "Get Simon up here! Someone … anyone … get him up here now!"

Freya looked at him, honest bewilderment on her face. "Mal?" she said softly. "It's shiny. It doesn't hurt." She could see the darkness just beyond him, welcoming, warming.

"It's okay, Frey," he assured her, his heart beating so hard he thought it might break through his ribs as he held the ragged edges of the wound together, trying to stop the blood flow. "Soon have this dealt with, _ai ren_. Not much more than a scratch." He tried to smile for her, but swallowed at the way the cloth was already soaked through.

"It's okay," she murmured, reaching out to touch his cheek, leaving a smeared print on his skin. "Leave it. It's peaceful." She smiled at him. "It's okay," she repeated. "Go back to work. Leave me be."

He stared at her. No matter what the doc had said, what he'd told Inara, he couldn't truly believe –

"Mal?" Simon jumped down into the galley, Kaylee at his heels.

"Over here."

The young man hurried around the counter. "What happened?" he asked, preparing a hypo quickly and injecting it into Freya's arm.

"I wanted some milk and cookies," Freya explained, her voice faint, laying her head back against the cupboard behind her. "Before the carriage comes …" Her eyes closed.

"Frey?" Mal said, his heart in his mouth.

"I've sedated her," Simon said. "Help me get her down to the infirmary."

"What about …" Mal lifted her wrist.

"Just hold that tight."

"What's going on?" Jayne said, stepping down into the kitchen, buckling his pants.

"Freya's hurt," Kaylee said, hugging herself.

"Jayne," Simon called, moving back. "Infirmary. Now."

"No," Mal said loudly, adding as he saw the young man give him an odd look, "She's my wife. I'll carry her."

Simon gazed at him a moment, then nodded, taking hold of the improvised bandage as Mal lifted Freya into his arms, holding her close, and headed towards the stairs.

--

"Freya was lucky." Simon stretched his back as he walked out of the sickbay, Mal following.

"Lucky?" Mal grabbed his arm, turning him around. "You think my wife nearly bleeding to death is lucky?"

"It would have taken a lot longer, Mal," the young man assured him. "And you found her."

"If I hadn't? Then what?"

"Mal … I don't think she did this on purpose."

The captain stared at him. "You don't … you think it was an accident?"

Simon sighed. "When people plan to kill themselves, they leave a note. Sometimes a letter. More than one. And from what she said, about wanting milk and cookies …"

Mal crossed the floor unsteadily and dropped in the yellow chair. "I thought …"

"That she did it deliberately?"

"What she was saying, telling me to leave her alone, to let her be … I was afraid …" He leaned forward, his head in his hands.

"She's …" Simon took a deep breath. "I've not changed my mind, Mal. Freya's been through so much, lost so much of her control, that … I think she might try. But this wasn't it."

"How come River didn't pick up on this?" Mal looked up, his face wet as well as angry. "She was supposed to be watching."

"River was asleep," Simon said softly. "She can't watch her all the time."

"Even when she ain't asleep she's …" Mal stopped, biting his tongue.

"What? More interested in Jethro than saving Freya's life?" Simon shot back.

"Ain't that the case?"

They glared at each other.

"Mal, she's going to be okay," Kaylee said softly, hugging her knees from where she sat on the stairs by the window.

"She's right," Jayne said. "Ain't River's fault." He got up and walked away.

Mal didn't watch him leave but felt his presence go. Then he took a breath, standing up to face the young man. "You think she needs a Counsellor," he said shortly. "A professional."

"Yes."

"You got one in mind?"

"Not out here, but … I can do some research."

"If we need to go to the Core …"

"I'll see what I can find out."

"Yeah. Thanks." Mal nodded curtly, before striding into the infirmary to be with his wife.

--

River sat in her room, listening, knowing what was going on, her arms tight around herself. She knew what he was thinking, how he felt, and guilt was flooding through her. Mal was right … she wasn't thinking about Freya, not really. Not when it hurt so much to be close to her.

"River?" Jethro opened the door carefully.

"I didn't mean it," she said, hugging herself tightly, rocking backwards and forwards. "I wanted to help … I want to help … but I fell asleep …"

The young man stepped inside, sitting down next to her. "He was wrong to say that. And he didn't mean it."

"Yes he did. And he's right. I don't …" She sobbed. "I have to … but it hurts so much."

"Please don't," Jethro said. He reached over and pulled River, ever so gently, into his arms. At first she was unyielding, then she melted against him, crying silently. "It's all right. It's all right."

Jayne looked into the room, and really wished he had something to kill, right there in front of him. With a shaking hand, he slid the door closed.

--

"_Elena, there's someone here to see you," said the house mother, looking into the room._

"_Momma?" She looked up from where she was reading, laying on her front on the bed._

"_No, sweetie, not your mother. But someone important." The woman smiled, her smooth face devoid of any guile._

"_Who?"_

"_Well, if you don't hurry up you won't find out." She held out her hand. "Come on."_

_Elena scrambled off to her feet. "Won't you tell me?"_

"_It's a surprise." She led the way towards the elevators and stepped inside, keeping tight hold of Elena's hand._

"_Where are we going?"_

"_Somewhere new." Passing a card over the pad, she touched a small button to the side of the main display. "Somewhere exciting."_

_The doors closed and Elena could detect movement downward. She could feel the dampness of the woman's palm, and she wondered at the reason. Tentatively she reached out with her mind …_

-

River watched the events unfold in Freya's mind, and trembled. She knew what had happened, but never in this detail, not from her. It was almost too much to take, making her remember herself, unable to hold her mind away from her own memories.

But she'd promised Mal. She'd let him down once, and she wouldn't again.

She leaned against Jethro, asleep next to her, feeling his warmth but it didn't warm her.

She'd tried to help, insinuate herself into Freya's psyche, tell her it was just a dream, but it didn't work. She didn't listen, or couldn't hear. And she was growing stronger with every passing moment, and if she couldn't do something soon, it would be too late.

-

_The room was small. And cold. They'd said it was to keep blood loss to a minimum, but she could see they were lying. It was just another way of controlling her._

_The first time they'd strapped her into the chair she'd fought them, biting and kicking, until one of them used a hypo on her, and when her legs and arms no longer belonged to her they tightened the restraints so much her hands and feet ached. The head band was the worst, stopping her moving, not letting her get away from the probes that sliced through her skin into her skull, cutting through the bone into her brain …_

_They hadn't cared that she screamed until she was hoarse, begging them to stop, calling for her mother, her father, even her brother to come and save her. They kept on until the darkness reached out and claimed her._

_The tenth time they were interested in the marks left by the probes._

"_Healed." He touched the areas of smooth skin with his fingers._

"_That's unusual."_

"_More than unusual. I wonder if it's the same over the rest of her body?" He'd picked up a scalpel, cutting a long slice into her arm and watching the blood trickle down her flesh. "Wrap it, and we'll see tomorrow."_

_She'd whimpered, like a wild animal …_

"_Almost gone."_

"_Mmn."_

"_Do you think –"_

"_Perhaps. Get Dr Lee in here. This might be more his area of expertise."_

"_A boosted healing system could have untold military applications. Shouldn't we contact General –"_

"_Not yet. Let's see how far this goes first." He'd stroked her cheek, almost as if she was a doll, smooth porcelain under his fingertips. "But right now we have work to do."_

_She screamed as he lifted up the first probe._

_-_

He was being shaken. In the dream it was a rackety old cart that he was riding in the back of, his feet hanging off the edge. He was happy, sitting in the sunshine, humming to himself. Only his toes were dragging through something soft and warm, and he didn't want to see what it was. Trouble was, they were going uphill and he was leaning further and further out, and any second now he was going to have to look …

"Jethro."

He opened his eyes. "Wha … what?" River was leaning over him. "River?" he squeaked, grabbing for the blankets, only they weren't there. Then he remembered. He was fully dressed, and so was she, and they'd fallen asleep wrapped in each other's arms. "What is it?" he asked, attempting to pull himself together.

"Freya."

He sat up. "Has she –"

"No." River shook her head. "But it's time to talk to her."

"River, I don't know …" He glanced at the clock. "It's really late. Or maybe early."

"You have to wake her up."

"Why?"

"Otherwise she won't."

He glanced sharply towards the door. "But I thought you said –"

"It won't be her who wakes."

"I don't understand, River."

"It will be someone else. Not Freya. And you know it."

Jethro stared at her, hearing his own words echoing back to him from his conversation with Mal. "Is it that bad?"

River nodded. "Go. Now."

He stood up and hurried out to the infirmary.

Freya was on the medbed, her head tossing, her neck arching as she struggled with something in her dreams. Her nightmares, he corrected himself as he stepped inside.

"Freya," he called. She didn't respond, just made her hands into fists and beat on the bed.

_It bled, but they wouldn't bind it. It hurt so much she couldn't breathe, but they wouldn't give her painkillers, just in case it interfered with her natural healing abilities._

_So many times. So many scalpels and blades, so many parts of her body violated so they could see what would happen. Days, months, maybe years of it as they smiled at each other and congratulated their good fortune._

_She forgot so much. So many of the things she'd learned, so many facts that she'd once been overjoyed to have at her fingertips disappeared into the miasma of pain._

_Her thin dress was soaked in blood and sweat, and her skin was prickled with goosebumps as she alternatively burned and froze. And the darkness was there, waiting, moving towards her, welcoming her into its embrace …_

"Freya!"

Her eyes slammed open and she stared at him, and he felt her crawling inside his mind. Then it was gone and Freya was crying.

"Jethro?" she asked, her voice hoarse.

"It's only me." He pulled a stool up close and sat down. "You were dreaming."

"Was I?"

"You don't remember?"

She looked down at the bandage on her wrist. "Blood," she whispered. "So much blood."

He shuddered involuntarily, but asked, "Where from?"

"Me. Flowing out, filling the spaces between words."

Jethro decided to try Jayne's approach. "Freya, if you're trying to freak me out, you're succeeding," he said bluntly.

She looked at him in surprise, then smiled a little. "Sorry. I didn't mean to."

"Why blood?"

She gave him a look that reminded him all too powerfully of River. "Have you ever thought about how it smells? Blood, I mean. It has an … odd perfume. Kinda like lightning before the rains. First blood I ever smelled was my own. I was six, and Alex had just pushed me off the ledge outside my bedroom window. He told me I could fly, that it was easy. And I believed him. I think it was the last time I ever believed him. When I smelled the blood coming from where the bone stuck out of my leg, I realised he'd lied to me. It's funny, but I don't remember it hurting. First and last time it didn't. Not like later. When I smelled my own blood when they cut into me at the Academy. It hurt then." She looked into his eyes. "And it hurt when Wing broke my bones."

"I know." He reached out to take her hand but she pulled it away.

"It shouldn't have. I let him do it. Like Alex."

"How?" He leaned forward. "How could you let him do that? Did you give him permission?"

"I went after Ethan by myself. I knew it was a trap, that they were going to take me, but I still went."

"To save your son."

"I didn't know that. They could have kept him too."

"It was a chance you had to take."

She looked away from him. "They're better off without me," she said softly. "I don't work properly any more." She thought back to the day before, watching Mal give Ethan a bottle Kaylee had prepared. "I can't even feed my son." Her voice cracked as tears slid down her cheeks. "It would have been better if they hadn't found me."

"No," Jethro said firmly, witnessing her emotions swinging wildly. "You didn't see him. What he thought … when we found you and he thought …" He sighed. "Freya, he could never let you go. And you mustn't talk like that."

"But if he hadn't found me alive, then he wouldn't be going through this. He'd be starting to heal. To move forwards."

"Do you really think he could?"

She gazed at Jethro. "I can't let him hurt like this. What I could do …""

"What?"

"It's so dark …" She shook her head. "It will overtake us all. Waiting, just for me to put a step wrong. And I let it in."

"I don't understand, Freya." He truly didn't.

"What's going on?" Simon asked, stepping into his infirmary, woken by voices from a light doze. "Jethro?"

"Talking. That's all." The young man stood up. "River thought it might help."

"Does it?"

"I want to sleep," Freya said suddenly. "Sleep and not wake up."

"No." Simon was uncompromising. "That is not going to happen."

"Why not?" she asked, turning dark eyes on him. "If I want it. My choice. Easier."

"It's not easy. Not for everyone left behind." He stepped close to the bed. "Never easy for them."

"Please, Simon. Let me sleep." She was pleading with him. "Let them get on with their lives."

"No." He turned to the counter and prepared a hypo. "But I am going to give you a sedative, let you get some rest. Then we can talk in the morning."

"No mornings left," she said, covering her face with her arm. "Only night."

There was a hiss as Simon injected her neck with the pale liquid, and her breathing eased.

"Simon, is that a good idea?" Jethro asked. "River wanted me to keep her awake."

"My sister isn't a doctor.

"But she said –"

"I think you'd better get to bed yourself, Jethro." Simon looked down at his patient, moving her arm so it lay by her side. Her eyes were closed. "She'll sleep for at least eight hours now." He stretched. "Go on."

Jethro looked at him, still not sure, but headed back towards his room. As he passed River's he looked inside.

"You let her sleep," she whispered, backed into the corner, her legs drawn up to her chest.

"I didn't have a choice."

"Neither does she."

-

_She could smell the smoke. Somewhere there was a fire, and she waited for the alarm to ring, but there was no sound. Except a growing rustling, like dry leaves._

_Elena stood up from her cot, going to the door. She was afraid to call out, afraid that someone would come, but more afraid that they wouldn't._

_She banged on the metal. "Hey!" she called. "Can anyone hear me? There's a fire!"_

_Nothing. No response. It was as if she was the only person in the entire universe. She reached out with her mind, pushing through the darkness._

_The last time she'd tried, she'd felt Freya die, her body unable to take it anymore and her mind too broken to stop it. Now she had no choice if she wanted to live._

_Oh God. He'd set them. Throughout the compound. Burning, a roaring inferno that was sweeping through the building. He was laughing as the flames licked around his feet._

"_Let me out!" she shouted, pummelling her fists on the door. "Let me out!"_

-

Zoe looked into the galley, tucking her shirt into her pants. "He's asleep," she said to Hank, nodding towards Mal, his head on his arms on the kitchen table.

"Good. Best let him get on with it."

"What about that coffee you wanted?"

"It'll keep. I need to talk to Shapiro anyway, make sure the meet's set up to deliver the goods. And you know what she's like if we're late."

"Hmmn." She hadn't taken her eyes off her captain. "Wonder why he ain't with Freya."

"No idea." Hank stroked her hip. "When he wakes up I'd appreciate some breakfast."

"It's Jethro's turn."

"Well, if I see him I'll remind him." Hank smiled and headed for the bridge.

Zoe looked back at Mal, and felt a sense of unease slip down her spine.

-

_She was outside. She didn't know how, but suddenly it was fresh air on her face and earth beneath her bare feet. Outside. Free._

_She turned around and gasped, her hand covering her mouth. Flames leapt from every window, thick smoke rolling into the blue sky, heat singing her skin._

_She backed away, then turned, running, hard and fast, away from the conflagration behind her, away from the screams of those still trapped and dying. Away from the explosion that threw her onto her chest, winding her. She staggered to her feet, trying to drag air into her lungs, then walked unsteadily forward. She wouldn't look back. Couldn't. As her breathing returned, albeit painfully, she began to run again, trees and fields rushing past her, at such a speed that they blurred into a grey stream. Running, running towards the light …_

_She fell, tangled in something, her feet bleeding, leaving red prints on the ground behind her._

"_Are you all right?" a voice asked, mild, gentle. Someone who could help her. Someone who could heal._

_Sobbing in gratitude, she looked at the hand placed on her shoulder. The blue hand …_

_And she was back in her room, the plain grey walls, bare metal with no definition or hope of relief._

_She couldn't get away. Never get away. And they were coming._

_She reached out with her bare hands, wanting to kill …_

Mal woke with a jerk, recoiling from the dream. "Freya."

-

"Hank, I need to speak to you." Zoe stepped up behind the pilot.

He looked up at her. "Couldn't you have done that a few minutes ago?" he asked. "I'm just about ready to contact –"

"It won't wait."

"O-kay." He stretched out the word. "What about?"

"Not here." Her face was damp as if she was sweating slightly.

"You okay?" he asked, standing up to look into her eyes. "Do you need to see Simon?"

"I …" She shook her head. "Come with me." She walked away from him, off the bridge.

He followed, more than a little confused. "What is it?" he called, but she didn't answer, just opened the hatch above their bunk and disappeared inside.

She barely waited until he had stepped off the ladder before she had pushed him back against the bulkhead, her mouth searching for his, fastening on it and thrusting her tongue inside. He was surprised, but his body reacted quicker than his mind as his arms came up to hold her. Stroking his hands up her back, he found he couldn't think, just … She pulled back enough so that she could strafe her gaze up and down him.

"Zoe, should we be …" He could hardly get his words out. "I should be …oh, _wuh de tyen, ah_," Hank breathed as she filled her hand with his crotch, squeezing him. "No, I mean …" His eyes began to close as she manipulated him. "Zoe …"

She let go of him and grasped his shirt, tearing it so hard that the buttons popped and scattered across the room. "I need you," she said throatily. "Now."

"No, Zo," Hank began, beginning to feel a slight thread of fear. This wasn't right – worse, this wasn't Zoe. "You have to stop –"

He cried out as she raked her nails across his chest, from his right shoulder to below his left nipple, breaking the skin. The scent of fresh blood assaulted his nostrils and he clamped both hands to the wounds.

Zoe stepped back. "What …" She stared at what she'd done. "No."

"Zoe," Hank said, trying not to whimper.

"Hank?" She reached out, and he tried to back away but couldn't move. "No, oh sweetie, what have I done?" Her face was appalled.

-

"You promised!" Kaylee cried, turning on her husband. "You said, once Freya was … you promised you'd get to the results!"

Simon stared at her, halted in the act of tugging his clean sweater down into place. "I've been busy. And it isn't the time for this. I have to check in on Freya."

"Of course. Always her. But it's been a month! I need to know!"

"Kaylee, let me be." He moved away, going to leave their quarters but she snaked round in front of him, planting her small body between him and the door. "Get out of my way. I have things to do."

He sounded so cold it raised the heat within her. "And is one of them going to be finding out why I ain't getting pregnant?"

"Is that all you think about?" He shook his head. "People nearly die on board this ship and all _Kaylee_ can think about is more babies." He looked disgusted with her. "I can't believe I ever …" He stopped.

"Ever what?" she demanded. "Ever agreed to get off your high horse and touch someone as lowly as me?" She grabbed his arm. "Ever thought you'd need to slum it badly enough that I'd be the best you could get?"

"Let me go," he said, his voice suddenly quiet.

Instead she squeezed harder, wanting to leave bruises. "You ain't so mighty as all that, _Dr_ Tam. Still couldn't fix your crazy sister –"

Simon raised his hand, about to strike out.

"No!" River shouted, dragging the door open. "Stop!"

Simon looked up at her, then at his hand, still high. "Oh my God …" he whispered, dropping it to his side. "Kaylee, I'm so sorry."

She was staring at him, blinking hard as if she'd just woken up. "What happened?" she asked quietly, letting go of him and taking a step back.

"It wasn't you," River said. "It's Freya."

"What?" Simon dragged his eyes from his wife to look at his sister. "Freya?"

"Her control is …broken." River was almost crying. "I felt it. Can feel it. You have to wake her up before –"

There was a sound like an explosion in the cargo bay, then Jayne's voice booming. "Stand still so I can kill ya!" he yelled.

They ran out through the common area to the bay. Jayne was standing on the stairs, Vera in his hands, aiming towards a stack of crates, one of which was more than punctured.

"Always knew you were a coward!" he called, pulling the trigger again and blowing another hole in the same crate. "Come out and face me like a man!"

"Jayne, what the _tyen shiao duh_ is going on here?" Mal bellowed from the doorway to the upper corridor.

"We're gonna finish this!" Jayne aimed a little lower, ignoring the captain. "Even if I have to shoot every little bit away from ya …"

"Jayne!" River screamed, trying to get his attention. She ran past Simon who tried to grab her but missed, and stood in the line of fire.

"Get outta here, moonbrain," Jayne said, his voice quieter but still menacing. "This is between me and him."

Now they could see Jethro hiding behind the stack, his face terrified.

"No. It's not you. It's Freya. She's projecting such feelings …" River was pleading with him. "I can't reach you, Jayne. Please stop this!"

"Get outta the way." Jayne's finger took up the slack in the trigger. "I'm gonna kill me a preacher, and you'd better not be there when I –" His mouth sagged and he fell forwards, sliding down the stairs until he lay with his head on the cargo bay floor, his body up the steps.

Mal stood above him, a wrench in his hand. "Damn fool," he muttered. "And what's this about Freya?"


	7. Chapter 7

"Get outta the way." Jayne's finger took up the slack in the trigger. "I'm gonna kill me a preacher, and you'd better not be there when I –" His mouth sagged and he fell forwards, sliding down the stairs until he lay with his head on the cargo bay floor, his body up the steps.

Mal stood above him, a wrench in his hand. "Damn fool," he muttered. "And what's this about Freya?"

River looked at him thankfully. "She can't help it. It's her abilities breaking through. She's been trying so hard to control the darkness that she's projecting."

"Mal, what's going on?" Inara called from outside her shuttle, her voice trembling, but he ignored her.

"I don't understand, little albatross," Mal said, shaking his head.

"I do," Hank put in.

Mal turned. "What the …"

Zoe was helping his pilot through the upper doorway. His shirt was torn and bloodied, and his face was white.

"I don't know what happened," his first mate said, sounding so guilty that it amazed them all. "I … I did it. Only it didn't feel like me."

"Infirmary," Simon said, turning to go back and coming face to face with Kaylee. "I'm sorry, _bao-bei_," he said, his own guilt matching Zoe's.

"I know," she said, stepping out of his way. "You'd best deal with this."

--

"I felt it too," Inara said, hugging Kaylee just outside the sickbay. "I woke up and … I wanted to hurt someone. So badly. Anyone. Even myself." She shuddered. "I began to break things, just to … until I heard Jayne's gun go off."

"How come Jayne didn't stop when we did?" Zoe asked, watching Simon clean the deep scratches on Hank's chest.

"Did you want to hurt Hank?" River asked.

"No."

"Did Simon want to hit Kaylee?"

Mal looked sharply across. "Hit Kaylee? You hit Kaylee?"

"No, Cap'n," the young mechanic said quickly. "He wouldn't'a hurt me." No way she was stepping inside, though.

"I don't know what happened, Mal," the young doctor admitted, his voice unsteady. "It was as if it wasn't me."

"It wasn't," River agreed. "It was Freya. Not consciously, but … she wants to lash out. To hurt everyone. To make them feel what she felt."

Mal glared at her, then looked down at his wife, lying too still under the sedation. "And Jayne?" he asked, not wanting to think about it, but knowing the girl was right. His own dream had made that perfectly clear.

"He didn't stop because he wants to kill Jethro anyway. The impulse was just let loose, and he didn't want to push it back."

"And now we know?"

"It won't stop it." She gazed unhappily at Mal. "You have to help her."

"_Mei-mei_, I'm trying. But she keeps pushing me away." He stroked Freya's forehead.

"Then we have to go in and get her."

"Go in?" He looked up and stared at her. "Go in where?"

"Into her mind. Bring her back. Stop the darkness."

"You keep talking about that. But surely –"

"It will consume her and there will be nothing of Freya left. Just a shell filled with hate and the need to hurt."

Mal looked around at the others: Zoe standing next to Hank, his skin and blood under her nails; Kaylee outside in the common area, not even able to be in the same room as her husband. Knowing Jayne was out in the cargo bay, tied to the railings, Jethro hiding …

"What do I have to do?" he asked, turning back to the young psychic.

"Trust me."

--

"What now?" Mal asked, lying back on the medbed. Freya had been taken into their temporary room, and he felt bereft of her.

"Trust me."

"River … can you really do this?"

"You love her. You're in her mind already. I'm just … pushing a little." At his look she repeated, "Trust me," and watched as Simon put sensors on Mal's chest and forehead. "Close your eyes. Relax." She sat back on the counter, then added, "This might be a little … odd."

"Odd?" Mal's eyes flew open. "Odd how?" Then he realised he wasn't in the infirmary any more. At least he thought he wasn't. It was pitch black, and he seemed to be standing up. He turned around. Maybe. Difficult to tell since there was nothing differentiating one direction from another. Even up or down. He leaned over to try and figure out what he was standing on, but he couldn't feel anything. At all.

"River?" he called, only his voice was swallowed by the blackness. He tried to think her name, but it was as if his mind was as foggy as his vision. "Great. Very helpful."

He couldn't tell how long he'd been there: it could have been seconds or days. Then he heard – someone _singing_. Badly. He turned as best he could and saw a light, just a dim glimmer but getting brighter. No, not brighter but nearer. He watched as it resolved into a figure, leading, most improbably, a large white horse and carrying a lantern on a pole. Mal still couldn't see who it was, although he felt sure he knew.

Suddenly the singing stopped, and a voice said, "I'm a leaf on the wind: watch how I soar." And the man standing in front of him snapped into focus. "Hey, there, Mal."

He stared. "Wash?"

"The very same." His dead pilot was grinning at him.

"You … okay?"

Wash shook his head. "Right through the chest," he said, slapping the outrageous Hawaiian shirt he was wearing. "Tends to kill you."

"I … remember." Mal swallowed.

"So how's Zoe?"

"Fine."

"That flyboy taking good care of her?"

"They're … good. Mostly."

"Tell him, he doesn't do right by her, I'm coming back to haunt him."

"Okay. Sure. I will." He paused. "Um … why are you here?"

"Don't you want me to be?" He managed to sound hurt.

"No, I mean, yeah, sure, but … why _are_ you here?"

If anything Wash's grin got wider. "I'm your squire."

"What?"

"You're going to fight dragons, and if you're gonna do that, then you need a squire." He indicated himself. "And I'm it."

"Dragons."

"A metaphor. Or maybe a simile. I never could get those straight at school."

"You sure it ain't windmills?"

Wash laughed. "Now I do remember Don Quixote. Only I'm pretty sure I never read it when I was alive. You think you get smarter once you're dead?"

"I think you get corpsified and gross."

"Yeah, probably." But the laugh died quickly. "Only it ain't serfs we're here to save right now, Mal. It's Freya."

"I know."

They looked at each other for a long moment while Mal waited for something to happen.

"So, d'ya miss me?" Wash said eventually.

"Some."

"Hey, from you that's fulsome."

Mal glared at him, then felt the horse nuzzle his shoulder. He looked into a pair of dark eyes, somehow creepily familiar.

"Hey, she likes you!" Wash grinned. "So, we going?"

"Going? Going where? Wash, I hate to point this out, but there ain't anywhere to be going to."

"Just be patient."

Mal sighed. "Hey, wait a minute. How come it's you anyway? Not Book, or … or … hell, Zoe, even."

Wash shrugged. "I don't know. It's your subconscious."

"I thought it was Freya's."

"Really?" Wash looked unconvinced.

"Although I don't …" Mal sighed. "No, this is so insane it has to be River's."

Wash thought for a moment. "Well, who knows what goes on in that brain of hers. Brings back such happy memories." He sighed, a smile on his face. "Ah, wacky fun."

Mal's glare got deeper. "Why _is_ it you? You don't even know Freya. You weren't around when we … I mean, by then you'd … um …"

"Died. Mal, it's okay, you can say it. I died. Snuffed it. Shuffled off this mortal coil. Not something I'm particularly proud of, but accidents happen. But I do know Freya. Hell, known her longer than I knew my lambie-toes."

He watched as the realisation struck his old captain. "That's … you slept with my wife."

Wash sighed. "It was one time."

"You slept with my wife."

He tried a grin. "Mal, come on. It was a long time ago. And it was once."

"That don't make no difference. You slept with my wife." Mal took a menacing step forwards.

"Actually, you know, I think she slept with me. But fine. You gonna kill me? Go ahead. Oh, no, sorry, already dead." Wash shook his head. "You know, this has to be your subconscious. Only you'd try and do something as crazy as beating up on a dead man." He saw the murderous glint in Mal's eyes. "Yeah, well, look, it's all very well standing and exchanging pleasantries like this, but it's not exactly helping Freya."

Mal took a deep breath. "No. Okay. So what do I do now?"

"Now you get to kill the monster."

Mal gave a start. That was exactly what he'd said to Inara, that he wanted to go into Freya's dream and kill the monster for her. "Gorram psychics, waltzing around in other people's minds," he muttered

"Since when did River ever do what you told her?" Wash patted the other man on the shoulder. "You fight the dragon, Mal," he said seriously. "That's what you do. You fight the dragon to save the fair lady."

"Save the …" The horse nudged him again. "And what the hell are you doing with that animal?"

"Hey, I ain't the one wearing armour."

Mal looked down. He was indeed wearing armour, bright and shining, with a red symbol emblazoned on his chest. "What is it?" he asked, trying to see.

"Serenity," Wash said happily. "You know, I miss that old crate."

Mal sighed. "And I'm beginning to think River's crazier than we all imagined."

"Is that possible?"

"You know, for a dead man, you're really annoying."

Wash grinned. "Well, I work harder at it. So, time to go." He dropped the lantern, which immediately went out.

"Um, go where?" Mal asked, then realised the impenetrable darkness had thinned, and was even now whirling away like mist in the morning sun.

"There," Wash said, revealed in all his glory standing on a grassy plain. He pointed.

"_Da-shiong bao-jah-shr duh la doo-tze_," Mal breathed.

There, in front of him, nestled into the curve of the valley, sat Serenity. His ship. Only not quite, adorned as it was with turrets and pennants. The sun was glinting off shields slung along the outside of the engine housing.

"That's how they all see you, Mal. King of your own little castle." Wash waved a hand at the image in front of him. "Knight in shining armour."

"Are you kidding?" Mal stared, then looked around. This seemed familiar … the stream at the bottom of a wide valley, mountains all around, a small stand of trees up the hill … he didn't want to see if there was a small headstone there.

"It's always there, Mal," Wash said quietly. "That little grave. Always in Freya's mind."

"Yeah." Mal's voice was unsteady. "Mine too."

Wash suddenly clapped his hands together, the sound ringing across the landscape. "So, you ready?"

"What for?"

"I told you. Fighting the dragon. Or would you prefer a dinosaur? Only I don't reckon there's that much of a choice, and I'd go with the dragon if I were you. Probably a bit easier."

"What?" Mal stared at the other man. "What dragon?"

"That one." Wash pointed in front of them, and Mal turned back towards the Firefly. Only in front of him, between him and his ship, between him and Freya, was a damn great big, fire-breathing dragon.

"Oh, _nee ta ma duh tyen-shia suo-yo duh num doh gai si_."

"Yep," Wash said happily. "Beautiful, ain't she?"

"Are you insane?" Mal asked, looking straight into the eyes of the dragon, and it looked back. "I ain't a knight. I don't know how to use a sword."

"Well, no," Wash agreed. "Kinda proved that a coupla times. But it's this or you lose Freya forever."

"Can't I just shoot it?"

"I don't think so. But you don't have to use a sword. We got this." Reaching behind him, he produced a lance from thin air, like a magician.

"I am not even going to ask where you've been keeping that."

"Don't," Wash agreed.

Mal looked back at the dragon, who appeared much more interested now there was a weapon in sight. In fact, thin curls of smoke were arising from its nostrils. "You sure I can –"

"It won't be that difficult, Mal. She wants you to save her."

"Then why …"

"Just get on the damn horse."

Mal did as he was told, finding himself in the saddle before he even realised it. The horse stood calmly, waiting.

"Now put your visor down."

"My …" Mal reached up and realised he was wearing a helmet. "Ah." He lowered the visor and reduced the vision of his world to a small gap. Unfortunately, he could still see the dragon, and it appeared to be getting annoyed.

"You know, I wish I had a capture of this," Wash was burbling happily. "I coulda blackmailed you into giving me and Zoe all the time off we wanted, naked beaches and all."

"If you weren't dead –"

"Here." He handed Mal the lance. "Go get 'im."

Mal turned enough to be able to see the pilot standing back. "Wait, ain't you coming?"

"Nah," Wash said. "I'm just the squire. I don't get to go and save the lady. That's the knight's job."

"Wash …"

He nodded his blond head. "Yeah, I know." He smiled sadly. "If I could …"

"See you around, Wash."

"Sure. And give my love to Zoe."

His horse decided enough was enough, reared onto its back legs, then began to gallop towards the dragon.

-

_This was new. The sound of hooves clattering along the corridor outside her cell. She listened intently, hoping to hear something else, to find out who it was, but the noise was only brief, and had gone as quickly as it had arrived._

_Suddenly the door opened, and they were there again. The men in the green lab coats, holding out the restraints. She backed into the corner, mewing, pleading with them not to, begging them not to hurt her._

-

_Wa ch-ao_, but that hurt. Mal tried not to breathe the super-heated air into his lungs, but it was a close thing. And his skin was burning where it touched the metal of the armour. This might be a dream, but if it was it was a nightmare. For someone who apparently wanted him to save her, this really, _really_ hurt.

The dragon was taking breath to release another torrent of flame over him, and he wasn't sure he could survive another blast.

Reining the horse in, he balanced the lance on his thigh and kicked with his heels, urging his mount forward. It needed no further command, leaping towards the monster.

At the last moment, as he saw the dragon open its mouth, Mal closed his eyes, envisioning his wife sitting on their bed, Ethan in her arms. "For Freya," he whispered as he prepared to roast.

There was a scream of pain, and it took a moment for him to realise it wasn't his.

Opening his eyes he found he was on one knee on the ground, head forward, no sign of his horse. He looked up, ready, but the dragon had gone. All that remained was a bright flame hanging in front of him.

He looked behind him as best he could, to see Wash grinning stupidly, giving him the double thumbs up, nodding him on.

Mal reached out and plucked the flame from the air, tucking it into his armour, not caring that it burned worse than the hot metal. All he knew was that it was important. Staggering to his feet he headed towards Serenity.

_The fire was out. She knew without knowing how she knew. And the men in the green lab coats were confused. They were looking at each other, their mouths moving silently as if they didn't know what to do next._

_From her corner of the room she tried to hear their thoughts, but it was just a jumble of incoherent sounds that scared her._

_Suddenly they turned, running into the corridor._

They rushed out of the open cargo bay doors, five men in green uniforms, each brandishing a laser pistol.

Mal smacked his hand down automatically to his right hip, but there was no gun. "River, this ain't funny no more," he muttered, pulling the sword from the scabbard he found there.

"_Did you ever really think it was?_" came the girl's voice in his mind.

"_Tah muh duh._" He rushed forward, the armour somehow not impeding his movement. Nor was it, unfortunately, much good at deflecting laser bursts. As he ran he felt two sudden stabs of pain in his chest, making him gasp for air, then two more in his leg, one in his thigh, the other catching his calf. He cried out as he fell, rolling, but managed to continue back to his feet. He felt the heat of the lasers above his head, but by then it was too late. He was amongst them.

Roaring like a banshee, adrenalin and anger fuelling him, he swung the sword high, bringing it around, cutting through them, releasing so much of the rage that he'd felt from the moment Ethan had been taken. He felt something splash his armour, covering the red symbol of Serenity with blood as he hacked his way to his ship. A final burst of pain seared across his back and he groaned, but lashed out once more. And then there were none.

He pulled off his helmet and dropped it, gasping for air as he looked down to see bodies and body parts at his feet. Rapidly loosing feeling if not the pain in his leg, he limped unsteadily up the ramp and into the bay. As his foot touched the decking he realised he was looking into a cell, at a young woman crouched in the corner. Long brown hair covered her face, her thin dress stained and tattered, her body covered in cuts that still oozed.

"Freya?" he asked, reaching out a hand towards her, trying not to pass out.

_She whimpered, scrabbling, trying to get away from him, from this monster in battered armour covered in blood. _

Suddenly she was on her feet, rushing past him out of the cell and down the corridor, and as he turned to chase her he realised the dress was torn down the back to her waist, and there was no tattoo on her back.

This wasn't Freya. Not the woman he had loved for so long, who had borne his child. This woman hadn't been saved. Had never met her mentor, been given the control. At least, not yet. This was who she was afraid she would become.

"Elena," he said softly.

_She stopped, hugging herself as if she was cold, staring into the darkness at the end of the corridor, rolling, getting ever closer, a living creature out to devour her._

"Elena." Mal took a step towards her, and she turned, her face petrified, tears coursing through the dried blood on her cheeks.

_She glanced back over her shoulder at the darkness, a sob breaking from her throat as she didn't know what to do._

Mal did, all at once, as if a great ray of sunshine had burst in on him.

"With great passion can come great power. But without enlightenment, the world is dark." He smiled at her, even as she cowered away from him. "And I won't let you go back to the dark, Frey. It's time to come home."

With that he reached inside his armour and pulled out the great burning flame, gushing in reds, golds and greens, three symbols hanging within the fire.

"Time to come home." He tossed it towards her.

_The flame engulfed Elena, lighting every part of her skin, and she cried out in terror. She pushed at it, trying to brush it from her body._

"Frey …" Mal waited anxiously, leaning on his sword.

Suddenly she stopped. Instead of trying to put the flame out, she stood straight, seeming to revel in it, absorbing it. Her flesh sucked it in, and it filled the space on her back, the three sigils finding their places. As the last of the light around her vanished, she turned to look at him.

"Mal?"

"Freya?"

"Have you come to rescue me?" She looked him up and down in his armour, and she smiled slightly. "Or is there something you want to tell me?"

"How about … I love you?" Mal said, needing to hear the right answer.

"Oh, good. Because I love you too." She suddenly grinned and rushed into his arms.

He pulled her to him, ignoring the pain from the burns, just feeling soft skin through the shirt on his chest, and he buried his face in her hair.

…

Mal woke, or at least opened his eyes, realising the pain was gone and she wasn't in his arms.

"Cap'n?" Kaylee asked, at last standing close to her husband.

He didn't answer, just rolled off the medbed and walked, rather unsteadily, past her and out of the infirmary.

"Mal –" Simon began, but his sister put her hand on his arm.

"It's okay," she said softly, smiling tiredly. "It's shiny."

Mal pulled up outside the door to their room, staring in.

Jethro was standing inside, smiling hugely, but he might as well not have been there. Mal only had eyes for Freya, sitting up on the bed, crying softly, gazing down at Ethan in her arms. She looked up. "Mal …" she said.

"Frey?" He felt her mind caress his like a feather on his skin.

"You saved me," she whispered. "Gave me back my control. And I hurt you." She shook her head. "I'm so sorry," she said, then held out a hand to him.

He crossed the threshold and approached the bed, sitting down carefully so as not to hurt her. "Don't be," he said, lifting her fingers to his lips, smoothing the tears from her cheeks, even as he began to cry himself.

"I love you."

"God, Frey …" He leaned over and gathered her into his arms.

Jethro stepped out into the corridor and quietly slid the door closed.


	8. Chapter 8

"A lance?" Simon was trying hard not to laugh. "A real lance?"

"Not sure I'd know if it was real or not, doc, but that's what it appeared to be."

Simon looked at Jayne. "It's a big stick. A very big stick," he explained, slowly and clearly.

Jayne glared back. "You lookin' to lose some teeth? Ain't so stupid that I don't know what a lance is," he growled.

"You're not stupid at all," River said, standing up for him.

"Damn right." He nodded at her.

"But a dragon?" Inara asked, trying to get back to the matter in hand. "Why a dragon?"

"Better ask our resident crazy person," Mal said, sitting back and crossing his arms. "Not that I've been able to get her to explain."

"River?"

The girl shrugged and looked at Kaylee for help.

"Wait a minute," Simon said suddenly. "When we were on top of that Ferris wheel, at the fair. The day of your birthday." He glanced at River then back at his wife. "You said that Serenity looked like a castle, and that Mal was the king. A knight in shining armour."

Kaylee coloured. "I wasn't really … not that I think the Cap'n's a … it was just …"

"Sweet," River finished. "And that's how we all see him." She looked at the man in question. "Sorry."

"Really?" he asked. "I mean, you all see me like that?"

"Nope," Jayne said, getting up from his chair and stretching hugely. "Mostly I see you as a pain in the butt." He ambled off out of the kitchen area.

"That man …" Inara murmured.

"Just be glad he said 'butt'," Mal grinned.

"It was just a romantic notion," Kaylee was still insisting.

"I think it was nice," her husband said gallantly, so glad she'd started to forgive him.

"'N' I think you all oughtta be locked up," Mal said, shaking his head. "I ain't no knight. There's no chivalry in my soul."

"No, captain," River said sternly, reprimanding him. "You saved us, all of us. Simon and me, you saved us from the Alliance. You saved Kaylee from a life fixing machinery for her father in exchange for a life fixing machinery out in the black. You saved Jayne from making a fool of himself –"

"Far too often," her brother muttered.

"– and you saved Inara from a life as a Companion."

"Excuse me," said the lady at the end of the table. "I made that choice myself."

"But he did," River insisted.

"What about Zoe and Hank?" Kaylee asked.

"Well, apart from the war he saved them both from living sad and unfulfilled lives alone."

Mal stared at her, then laughed. "Hell, River, every one of those folks saved me too."

She smiled. "How it should be." She reached over and patted his hand, just as she did sometimes to her brother. "You just had to prove that you would kill the monsters for her."

He looked at her, then smiled knowingly.

"Where are they, by the way?" Inara asked. "Hank and Zoe."

"On the bridge," Mal said. "I think they're trying to understand what happened. And I figure about now Zoe's begging forgiveness."

"Zoe?"

"Actually Hank's got his hand –"

"Albatross."

"On her cheek," River finished, giving Mal her look. "He's already forgiven her." She paused. "_Now_ he's touching her breast …"

Jayne heard the laughter following him as he walked down the stairs, then halted at the bottom. "_Ezri san zhi jiao mao lu_," he swore.

"Jayne, I think we need to talk." Jethro tucked his thumbs into his pants pockets.

"No, don't think we do." He went to pass the young man, but heard another voice in his head.

"_Yes, you do_."

"Gorramit," he whispered. _Stay outta my brain_, he thought savagely.

"_Jayne._"

"I think we should," Jethro said, unaware of the mental exchange going on and standing in front of the big man. "I know how you feel about River."

Jayne glared at him. "You really want to be startin' this?"

"I know because she's told me. And I know that's why you tried to kill me."

"Kid, if I'd wanted to kill you, you'd be dead."

Jethro stood his ground. "Hurt me, then. Maim me. But you did want to shoot me."

"Yeah, well, probably happens a lot to people like you."

"People like … me?"

"Shepherds."

Jethro shook his head. "I'm not a Shepherd."

"No?" Jayne leered. "Then how come you ain't gone all the way with River?"

"You … you want me to sleep with her?"

"Hell, no!" The big man's fists clenched. "You even think about that and I'll –"

"Then what?"

Jayne glared at him from his greater height, then let out his breath on one long sigh. "Just … if'n you're the one she wants, then you damn well better be ready for her."

"I know all about her, Jayne."

"Yeah? Well, let me tell you there's more to that girl than anyone knows."

"And you'd know?"

Jayne was amazed – Jethro was squaring up to him. "Yeah. River's my friend."

"More than that, I think. And why didn't _you_ do something about it?"

"Who's to say I wasn't gonna 'fore you showed your ugly mug?" Jayne taunted, then backed down just a millimetre. "Shit, Preacher, she's too good for me."

"I know the feeling."

"Yeah, reckon maybe you do." The mercenary glared at the younger man. "Look, I ain't gonna apologise for tryin' to kill you. But …"

Jethro waited for him to show some regret so he could forgive him. "But what?" he prompted.

"You hurt River in any way, and I'll carve you into so many small bits they won't be able to find all of you to bury." There was nothing but total sincerity in Jayne's blue eyes.

"Oh." Jethro swallowed. "Of course."

"Good. Glad to see we understand each other." He moved past Jethro towards the cargo bay.

"Are you going to leave?" Jethro asked. "Serenity, I mean,"

Jayne paused but didn't turn around. "Nope. Leastways not yet. If Mal'll let me stay. Guess I figured out something while all this was happening. What everyone's gone through. They're my family, and I ain't letting nothing like this happen to 'em again. Any of 'em."

"Then we have to find some way of living together."

Jayne looked over his shoulder at him. "How about you treat River proper and I don't kill you?"

The sheer grit in the older man's voice hit deep. "Sounds … sounds like a plan," Jethro stammered.

Jayne nodded just once and stepped out of the common area towards his weights. "Freya?" he asked in surprise.

She was sitting on the bench, one of the small dumbbells in her hand, trying to do bicep curls. She was crying.

"Whoa," he said, hurrying down the rest of the steps and across the bay floor. "What're you doing?"

She turned her face to him. "I can't … nothing works properly, Jayne." There was more than just physical pain in her eyes.

"Then you're doing it wrong." He gently took the dumbbell from her fingers, placing it back into the rack.

"Where's Mal?" she asked, wiping her face on the back of her hand.

"Talking in the galley." Jayne grinned. "Means he ain't gonna shoot me if I help you."

"Why would he do that?"

"You ain't seen his face when I was carrying out around. Surprised I didn't wake up dead one morning."

She laughed a little, and sniffed back her tears. "Not sure that's possible."

"With your husband?" Jayne scoffed. "If he wanted to I'm sure he could manage it." He peered down at her. "You know, you're doing this all wrong. You gotta start from the beginning."

"I don't …"

"You gotta walk."

"I am walking!" Freya protested. She grabbed the crutches and hauled herself to her feet, leaning heavily on them, breathing hard.

"You're trying to run, girl, and that ain't the way. You crawl first, then you walk, and then you run when the strength takes you. Well, I reckon you've done enough crawling, so now you walk." He reached out to take the crutches from her.

"I can't." She shook her head. "I can't do that."

"You have to." Jayne stepped close enough for her to smell the sweat on him. "You wanna carry Ethan again?"

She glared at him, then handed the crutches over. "I can't do this," she said softly, feeling herself swaying.

"Sure you can." He laid the sticks on the floor. "You're Freya. I've always kinda believed you could do anything." He grinned. "Proved that more'n once. Not least in not killing yourself."

"Jayne –"

"Just try. That's all you have to do." He took a step back. "Just walk towards me."

Staring at him, she lifted her left foot, swinging it unnaturally forward. It hurt, God, how much hurt, the pain radiating from her hips to fill her body. Putting her foot down didn't help, just moved the pain to a different level. She whimpered, trying to stop the cry that wanted to burst from her lips as she moved her weight forward, sure she was going to fall, her muscles refusing to hold her.

"Look at me," Jayne commanded, his deep voice taking on an air of authority she didn't recognise. "Don't look at the floor. You look at me."

She lifted her head, not breathing with the effort of holding herself anywhere near upright. With a supreme effort of will she dragged her right leg in front of her, feeling her ankle begin to give. She started to crumple.

He was there, his arms under hers, holding her, easing her back until she was sitting on the bench, inhaling him at every step. As she panted in stress and exertion, he went down onto his heels to look into her eyes.

"See?" he said. "I told you. You did good." He smiled at her, not the one he used on other women, the one that would usually make them think lewd and interesting thoughts, but the one that showed a deeper, more caring side of the man. The one he never showed anyone.

She nodded, half crying in pain. "Again," she said.

Jayne went to speak then looked up. Mal was standing on the catwalk above, watching. "Don't think so, honey. I ain't the one you wanna be doing this with," he said softly, climbing to his feet.

Freya followed his gaze. "Mal," she said,

Her husband came slowly down the stairs. "Is that right?" he asked. "You want me to help you?"

She wiped the tears from her cheeks. "Will you?"

"I came into your mind, didn't I?" he said, stepping down onto the bay floor. "And believe me, that wasn't something I'd like to do again."

"That wasn't me." She smiled tentatively. "Well, not all of it."

"So the dragon wasn't yours?"

"A metaphor."

"Or a simile." Mal's lips lifted as he reached her. "Whichever."

"You saved me."

"I love you."

Her smile grew. She held out her hands. "Help me?"

He took them gently in his own. "Always."

Jayne nodded. "See?" he said in triumph. "No-one stops Freya Reynolds being what she wants to be." He grinned and slapped Mal on the back as he headed for his bunk.

Simon, standing in the doorway to the common area, smiled. Thank heavens things were beginning to get back to normal. He backed up and headed towards the infirmary. Now at least he'd have time to analyse those results.

--

Mal and Freya were in bed together, still in the small room in the passenger dorm, Ethan asleep in the crib Kaylee insisted they use until they could go properly home.

"I didn't think we'd ever be able to be like this again," Mal said softly, running his fingers along her shoulder. "I thought I'd lost you, _ai ren_."

She looked up into his blue eyes. "You make me work as hard as that again, and I just might divorce you in favour of Jayne."

"That man isn't coming anywhere near you ever again."

"You telling me what to do?"

"Yeah." Mal was firm. "Putting my captainy foot down."

"Oh." She smiled. "I kinda like you being all masterful."

"Good." He kissed the top of her head. "Does it hurt that much?"

"Some," she admitted. "But I can live with it."

"Which suggests to me it hurts a hell of a lot, but you ain't gonna admit it." He gazed down at her in the crook of his arm. "Want me to get Simon to fetch a painkiller?"

"Maybe later."

He knew then how much it pained her, and tightened his grip on her a little. "'Kay," was all he said, pressing his lips to her cheek.

She mistook his intention. "I can't, Mal, not yet." She sounded regretful. "I want to, but my body won't."

"What?" Then he realised. "No, honey, that ain't …" He cursed himself for not understanding before. "No. I ain't trying to make you do that. Much as I love you, and much as I want to feel your heat all around me, I ain't gonna force myself on you."

"I know," she said quickly. "I didn't think –"

"I'm just glad you're here." His voice cracked a little. "Don't matter how long it takes, we don't do anything until you're ready."

"Isn't that going to make it hard for you?"

He groaned a little at the unintentional pun. "Frey, honey, I waited for you for a long time. Even when I didn't know I was waiting. Got kinda good at dealin' with such things my own self, and I've got the notion I ain't forgotten how."

She smiled. "You are a crazy man."

"Crazy in love," he amended, leaning down to kiss her lightly on the lips.

After a moment, as Mal felt his eyes begin to close, she spoke again. "Mal, I need to speak to someone."

"Mmn?" He brought his attention back. "Speak to … what do you mean?"

"A counsellor."

Mal was wide awake now. "A …"

She saw the fear pass across his mind, and she quickly added, "No, it's okay. I know what you were all thinking. What _you_ were thinking. But I'm not going to do that – I love you and Ethan too much to even consider that now. You saved me from that monster. Gave me back my control." She smiled a little. "But I need to speak to someone. And so do you."

"Me?" He almost squeaked.

"You," she confirmed. "You've held everything inside, and that's not good for you. You need to get it all out in the open, explode a little."

"I did explode. Cut five men into pieces –"

"That wasn't real."

"How about I just go shoot Jayne instead?"

She pinched him. "You know what I mean."

He sighed. "Guess maybe I do." He glanced across at Ethan. "I was just so glad at getting you back, I hadn't really thought about it."

"You have to."

"You really think you need to?"

"What Wing did to me … I still need to talk to someone about it. And it can't be anyone on board. It has to be someone who doesn't know me, that I can tell things to I'd never tell you – any of you."

"Never tell me?" he asked gently.

"I can't tell you everything." She laid her head on his shoulder. "Mal, I still feel the guilt. That hasn't gone."

"It wasn't your fault –"

"I know. But the point is I still feel like somehow it was. And the pain I put you all through … I need to talk to someone outside our family to resolve that."

"Frey, I'm scared," Mal admitted.

"Don't be. I won't leave you. They took my control, left me with nothing, but you gave it back. Let me use it. Let me deal with this."

"You're still gonna dream about it, aren't you?"

"Probably. For a long while. But I won't push you away when you comfort me."

"Not sure I could take it if you did." He gazed at her, wondering what secrets she could possibly have that were worse … "Okay," he said. "As it happens Simon thinks the same, and I know he was looking, seeing who would be the best person." He threw the covers back and climbed out of bed.

"Where are you going?"

"To tell him to make the arrangements."

"Mal, you can't go out there like that!" Freya laughed as her husband slid the door open.

He looked down at his naked body. "My boat," he said, grinning at her as he stepped into the corridor.

"Mal!"

He walked the few paces to the young doctor's cabin and knocked. After a few moments and a muffled conversation inside, Simon opened the door and looked out. "Mal?" It took a second for it to sink in that the captain was unclothed. "Are you all right?"

"That Counsellor? You find one?"

"Mal, do you know what time it is?"

"Not asking you for the time. Just if you've found a good man."

"Good woman. Dr Yi." Simon tried not to look down. "Mal, why're you naked?" he asked.

"Where's this doc live?"

"That's slightly more tricky. Ariel."

"Afraid they might come after you for planning the raid on St Lucy's?" Mal asked, surprisingly mischievously for a man not wearing pants.

"No, of course not."

"Fine. Make the arrangements."

"Mal, couldn't this have waited until the morning?"

"Nope. Strike while the iron is hot, as my Momma used to say." He turned back towards his room, giving Simon the full view of his bare ass.

"Yes. Sure. Fine." Simon shook his head, closing the door quickly.

"Cap'n was naked?" Mal heard Kaylee ask, and grinned as he went back to his wife.


End file.
